BIRDEMIC (2010): Capsule Review

Birdemic: Shock and Terror 2010 ½ 

BIRDEMIC: SHOCK AND TERROR is an attempted homage to Hitchcock's classic film THE BIRDS. Following in the footsteps of many nature gone awry films, BIRDEMIC's story links the crisis at hand with mankind's ill treatment of the environment. In NIGHT OF THE LEPUS, it was genetic research. In KINGDOM OF THE SPIDERS, it was farmer's use of pesticides. Here the birds are responding to global climate change.

While this kind of political commentary puts BIRDEMIC strongly within the "nature attacks" genre, it also moves it away from Hitchcock homage and into drive in theater formula. Hitchcock's film is about interesting personal relationships, but BIRDEMIC's attempts at these kinds of storylines fall flat as the screenplay spends more time discussing stock options than it spends time letting us get to
know the main characters.

A skilled film team could have turned BIRDEMIC into an entertaining film along the lines of ARACHNOPHOBIA, but filmmaker's amateurism prevented that from happening. Ironically, the film's charm is rooted in the filmmaker's amateurism. The filmmaker and crew were clearly excited to make the project and this shines through the awkward camera angles, bad editing, and terrible digital special effects.

The film is a sincere film, even if it is a bad one.

AMERICAN ASSASSIN (Film Review): Is AMERICAN ASSASSIN a Film Franchise in the Making?

Creating a new action franchise is a difficult process. It requires some combination of strong IP, star power, compelling narrative, and innovative action sequences. As was demonstrated ably by John Wick in 2014, it does not require a giant budget. CBS Films' recently released American Assassin featuring Vince Flynn's CIA "consultant" Mitch Rapp, has many of the requisite components, but are they enough?


In 1999, Vince Flynn's first Mitch Rapp novel Transfer of Power hit the bookshelves and rose to number 13 on the New York Times best-seller list. While Transfer of Power was subject to some mixed critical reviews, it was strong enough to build an audience big enough to support fifteen more novels and a movie deal. Though Mitch Rapp has a dedicated following are many reasons that Transfer of Power was not the book selected by Hollywood to introduce the character to a wider audience. The first and foremost reason is that Transfer of Power is about terrorists hijacking the White House and that storyline has been played out with Olympus Has Fallen and White House Down. The second is that the critics were right to complain that Transfer of Power takes a long time to get to the action. Films are a visual medium and they need stories that are suited to visual storytelling. Long scenes of Mitch Rapp and a retired Secret Service Agent discussing how they are going to slowly scout out where the terrorists have hidden bombs and booby traps makes for a plausible narrative, but it's not the stuff of a great action film. In the end, producers selected the 2010 novel American Assassin, which details Mitch Rapp's origin, as their franchise entry.

One of the things that makes Mitch Rapp a good literary character is that he is what author/screenwriter Steven Barnes described as "a nerdy guy who suffers a tragedy and turns himself into Jason Bourne to get revenge against 'the terrorists.'" While Mitch Rapp is a very physically capable character, NCAA Lacrosse player in the books, he is first and foremost a thinker. In the books, he speaks French like a native and a number of other languages. In the film, he's taught himself Arabic. He's an autodidact of the highest order. It's a quality that makes him difficult to cast though because the actor must be both athletic and "geeky." Dylan O'Brien fits the bill perfectly. The charm that he displayed in Teen Wolf is still evident, but it's suppressed a little as the filmic Mitch Rapp is suffering from a severe case of PTSD.

Michael Keaton portrays Mitch Rapp's mentor/tormentor Stan Hurley in typical Keatonesque fashion. Which in this case means that Keaton turns a relatively unlikable character in the books into a character that is kinder and gentler than the literary version while somehow managing to retain the cold lethality that Stan Hurley embodies in the books. Sanaa Lathan does an effective job of portraying Irene Kennedy, Mitch Rapp's handler and the person who recruited Rapp into a secretive off the books CIA program. Taylor Kitsch chews just enough scenery as "Ghost" that audiences will believe that he's blinded by a need for revenge, but not so much that he spirals into farce as a villain. Much more could have been done with the back story between Hurley and Ghost, but there is enough presented in the film to make Ghost's motivations clear.

Where the film begins to falter is in it's selected narrative. The underlying premise of the film is that some Iranian hardliners are unhappy with the nuclear deal between the United States and Iran. These hardliners have come into contact with a former US operative (Ghost) who has agreed to deliver nuclear material to them that they can use to make a nuclear device. What the hardliners don't know is that Ghost plans on using the device himself and in doing so get revenge on the country that abandoned him behind enemy lines. There are some twists in the plot that aren't given as much time to sink in with audiences as they deserve. Chief among these is that the Iranian government itself has been monitoring these hardliners and has sent their own agent to infiltrate the CIA's investigation. This is played off in a "OMG we have a traitor...oh, wait...not a traitor, but valuable resource" sequence that lasts all of five minutes.

Typical of many modern films, American Assassin isn't satisfied with smaller stakes. It takes what could have been an effective kidnap revenge story, which is one of the narratives in the book (though not with Ghost), and dials it to 11 with the addition of a nuclear device. Instead of learning from John Wick, Casino Royale, and The Bourne Identity that personal stakes can drive an action movie, the film relies on the staid ticking clock to maintain dramatic tension. This particular ticking clock falls flat and the story has other events that could have been used. One is reminded of how effectively Guarding Tess utilized one during the final kidnap and rescue sequence. In better action narratives, the personal drives the drama. In American Assassin, there are personal reasons for all the drama, but they play second fiddle to McGuffins.

Similarly, many of the action sequences of American Assassin lack aesthetic and emotional punch. Fans of martial arts films know that martial arts battles are beautiful dance sequences and they require similar attention. The fight, like the dance, must tell a story and viewers must be able to see what's going on. John Wick incorporated grappling techniques into the film in order to minimize the number of cuts in an editing sequence, a choice that resulted in some very elegant fight sequences. Mitch Rapp, in both the books and in the film, is a practitioner of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu which has been featured in John Wick and Red Belt in some wonderful action sequences but is underused in American Assassin. Michael Cuesta's direction of the fight scenes fails to convey the dance the stunt team is providing. These scenes are over edited and confused and this more than anything is the film's biggest failing. An action film can be cliched and derivative, but the action it portrays must be compelling.

American Assassin has many of the components for a solid mid-budget franchise, but future writers and directors would do well to remember that the best action stories are personal and that fight scenes should be treated like beautiful dance numbers around which the rest of the film is structured.

Images: CBS Films

AMERICAN ASSASSIN and Hollywood's Frequent Spectacle Problem

When I first saw the trailer for American Assassin a couple of months ago, I was blown away. Here was a spy film starring Michael Keaton, Dylan O'Brien, and Taylor Kitsch. Michael Keaton has long been one of my favorite actors because of his ability to provide convincing performances in films like Clean and Sober even as he worked on classic comedies like Mr. Mom . Taylor Kitsch's career has been more mixed than Keaton's, but his strong performances in Friday Night Lights and Lone Survivor and many other projects more than make up for his less successful work. Dylan O'Brien is a star on the rise who is well known enough to younger audiences that he might just be able to launch an action franchise.

The earliest teaser trailers focused on the origins of the "American Assassin" Mitch Rapp (Dylan O'Brien), giving audiences a glimpse of his ruthless capabilities and the tragedy that inspired him to become a killer. It was these early teasers that convinced me to begin reading the Mitch Rapp books by Vince Flynn. I'm a fan of spy films and novels, but given the breadth of my pop culture tastes I usually need some catalyst to get me to start up yet another long running series. I was grateful to those trailers, because the Mitch Rapp books I've read - Transfer of Power, American Assassin, and Kill Shot - are engaging and plausible stories. Mitch hasn't knocked John Wells out of first place for my favorite modern spy, but he's starting to get close.

What impressed me most about these three books was how they never presented Mitch as superhuman.  In the first book written in the series, Transfer of Power, the White House is taken over by terrorists and it's up to our hero Mitch to "save the day." Except it isn't up to him at all. Transfer of Power was published in 1999, before Olympus Has Fallen and White House Down, so the premise was fresh at the time but that book could not be used as the franchise launching film. It was also very different from those other White House has been taken over films. Instead of being a "single man against the small army" tale inspired by Die Hard that Olympus Has Fallen portrayed, Mitch spent most of Transfer of Power sitting in a closet with a retired Secret Service agent trying to figure out how to turn off a communications jamming device and locate explosives the terrorists set throughout the building. Mitch is doing this so that Delta and Seal Team Six can come and save the day. The book focused more on surveillance and planning than on action and dealt with Beltway Politics more than witty one liners after kill shots. There were no "Ho, Ho, Ho, now I have a machine gun" or "You've had your six" moments. It was as plausible as this implausible story could be.

This veneer of plausibility continued through the next two books I read. In American Assassin (the book), the main story line after Mitch's training is about an op gone bad and how Mitch adapts to the situation. Mitch's team is supposed to attempt to free a CIA agent who has been captured by terrorists and things go awry. Much of the book details the effects of emptying bank accounts and the paranoia this causes within the espionage community. There is action in the book, but there are also "follow Mitch as he pretends to jog in order to do surveillance" sections. The highest the stakes get is that the "bad guys" capture Stan Hurley (Michael Keaton's character in the film) and the danger of what will happen if they are able to interrogate him and find out everything the US has done. Very plausible stakes.

These plausible stories, minus Transfer of Power because Hollywood has done explosive versions of that movie, are the kinds of stories that make the best spy films. The best Bond film is Casino Royale and it's one of the most down to Earth of the series. My second favorite On Her Majesty's Secret Service is similarly plausible in its stakes. No giant space battles or massive underwater cities in those two films. When the Bourne films work best, it is because the stakes are personal. Similarly, Body of Lies works because it is realistic to the layperson and Hunt for Red October is so good because even with very high stakes the story doesn't go for too much spectacle.

American Assassin is directed by Michael Cuesta and his work on Kill the Messenger (which is exactly this kind of story) and Homeland seem a perfect fit for a plausible actioner similar to the books. Add to that a modest budget of $33 million, and we should be getting a "street level" spy story right?

 

Apparently not. It seems that CBS Films wants American Assassin to have SPECTACLE, so they incorporate a nuclear device. A nuclear device that by all appearances they blow up at sea in a manner that causes mayhem during a hand to hand battle. At least that's what the most recent trailers seem to be showing me. I haven't seen the film yet, and reviews by the Hollywood Reporter and Indiewire are good enough that I still will, but I really wish that the producers hadn't gone for the big bang. Hollywood has been overly trapped by the big bang in recent years. Almost every superhero movie is a big ticking clock protect the castle from the big bad movie lately, and let's not even start on how Transformers movies have become all spectacle and no narrative. Every Star Wars movie seems to be about blowing up yet another Death Star or mega huge spacecraft/shield generator. This year was the worst summer for box office in a long time. Maybe it's because producers don't trust audiences with smaller action stories. That's too bad, because what made the first John Wick movie work was how personal it was. Not every story needs to be a ticking clock to save the world. Sometimes it's enough to have the clock be to save one's self or even a friend.

That's what the books are about, and what I was hoping the movie will be about. We'll see if it delivers. I hope it does, but fear that Hollywood is going through one of its "Bigger is Always Better" phases.

SHAOLIN (2011) -- Powerful Drama, Passable Martial Arts

Jet Li's 1982 film Shaolin Temple is a fantastic martial arts film that signaled a sea change in the Hong Kong film industry.  It was the first Hong Kong martial arts film to be filmed in mainland China, it had brilliant choreography, and it had the uniquely charismatic Jet Li.  The film's story of a young refugee in 7th Century China who seeks refuge and training at a Shaolin temple in order to avenge the death of his father is based on common martial arts themes, but the use of naturalistic settings and the fluidity of the martial arts choreography are what make this film a standout to this day.  The film's martial arts are amazing, but real -- and all the more amazing for it.  The film didn't rely heavily on wire-work, as many earlier and later martial arts films have done.  It is a masterpiece, and to "remake" such a film is pure folly.

The futility of making a "remake" didn't stop Benny Chan, Andy Lau, Nicholas Tse, Jackie Chan, and Wu Jing from trying with 2011's SHAOLIN.  The result of their attempt is an extraordinary film that is emotionally powerful, even if the martial arts lack the grace captured in the earlier Jet Li classic.

The story is similar to the 1982 film, but with some significant differences.  As this is the 100th Anniversary of the Xinhai Revolution, the updated SHAOLIN is set during the era of warlord struggle that occurred during the aftermath of the fall of the Qing dynasty.  As presented in Benny Chan's film, this is a period of chaos, bloodshed, and treason where China's very soul is at stake.

At the beginning of the film Hou Jie (Andy Lau) is a powerful warlord who has just won a major victory, and who has a chance to stabilize the region and bring about a peace that he doesn't yet understand he desires.  In the celebration over his victory, General Hou's sworn brother General Song Hu congratulates Hou and proposes that they formally unify their kingdoms and their houses through an arranged marriage.  Given Song's tone, Hou's paranoia takes over.  He wonders why Song has not asked about the massive wealth he acquired in the battle.  Hou's concerns are further fueled by his ambitious lieutenant Cao Man (Nicholas Tse) who goads Hou into using the marriage arrangement dinner as an opportunity to ambush Song and end a threat to Hou's hegemony.  Cao Man is also attempting to convince Hou to trade with foreign entities who wish to build a railroad in China.  The foreigners will trade water cooled machine guns for the right to use Hou's land.  Hou resists the temptation to sell out his country to foreigners, but accepts the plan to ambush Song.

As one might guess, Hou learns of Song's sincerity and fidelity too late.  Hou finds himself betrayed by Cao Man -- to whom Hou had been cruel and dismissive.  Hou tries desperately to save himself and his family during the ambush.  He manages to escape, but in the process of escaping his daughter is fatally wounded.  He takes his daughter to Shaolin temple in the hopes that they can heal her, but it is too late.  Hou finds that in his pride and greed, he has caused the death of his daughter and the end of his marriage as his wife comes to hate him for his actions.

It is a powerful opening filled with emotional pull.  Andy Lau is compelling as Hou and gives his motivations enough plausibility that we never think of him as evil, even as he is causing others suffering.  He is ruthless and paranoid, but he is a loving father and husband.

The story progresses from their as Hou becomes a monk, is asked to learn cooking due to his impure heart, but who is eventually allowed to study Kung Fu under a senior brother (Wu Jing).  The audience watches as Hou transforms from a ruthless man into a redeemed man, but not yet a man at peace.  Hou must still find a way to bring balance to the harm he has caused the world.

He is given the opportunity when he discovers that Cao Man is using laborers to dig up antiquities -- China's history and soul -- and is selling them to the foreigners in exchange for guns.  Cao Man is willing to betray his own people, and murder them to keep it quiet, without one moment's remorse.  Nicholas Tse is masterful in his presentation of the ambitious and treasonous Cao Man.  What looks like it might be an over the top melodramatic performance, shifts subtly as Cao Man eventually faces the horror of his own actions and overcomes his longing for status and revenge.  This transformation occurs during the fight scene between Hou and Cao, a fight scene that is routine in physical execution but exquisite in emotional appeal.

Given that the film includes Jackie Chan in the cast, one might expect him to steal the show.  While his performance is entertaining enough, it is also somewhat formulaic.  He is a combination clown and hero, a role that Chan has provided us many times before.  He does so ably here, but his performance isn't overpowering or overly memorable.

What is memorable is the performance of martial arts prodigy Wu Jing -- Wu has done some fantastic work over the past few years including a spectacular fight with Donnie Yen in Kill Zone.  If any actor can be said to bring the kind of charisma that Jet Li brought to the first Shaolin Temple it is Wu.  His character has very few lines in the film, but his facial reactions to events within the film provide volumes of detail.  He has a natural ability to convey emotions, an undeniable charm, and his solid performance provides the hub around which the narrative takes place.  The film is -- in many ways -- the story of how Hou becomes more like Wu Jing's character.  The one fight scene that is more than routine is Wu's, sadly it is also the fight scene with the worst camera work.  His grace is remarkable and I look forward to seeing him in more films.


Like many of the best martial arts films to come out of Hong Kong, Shaolin is a deeply patriotic film that is as much about the spirit of the middle kingdom as it is about the narrative being shown.  The movie is well acted, has some spectacular camera work -- even though there are about 2 crane shots too many, and has passable kung fu fights that rely too much on wires and not enough on the grace of the movements.

There isn't as much action as one might imagine a kung fu film to have, this is a kung fu drama and drama is its greatest virtue.  The score and the acting manipulated my emotions perfectly.  I worried for the characters, and wept at all the right moments.  The final scene between Hou and his wife is one of the best scenes I have watched in a Hong Kong film.  It is romantic and tragic, it is everthing I watch movies in order to feel.

If the martial arts had been as good as the acting and the story, this film would have been a classic.  As it is, it is merely excellent.

[Film Review] THE TRIP: Commentary and Cuisine

In 2010, Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon starred in an award winning BBC sit-com entitled The Trip. The show lasted for six critically acclaimed episodes. The show was nominated for a BAFTA for best situation comedy and Steve Coogan won a BAFTA for best male performance in a comedy role. In 2011, the television series was edited into a feature film distributed in the United States by IFC films.

The movie, like the television series, is a mockumentary about two comedic actors named Steve and Rob whose careers and lives bear a striking resemblance to those of Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon.

The film opens with Steve calling Rob to ask if Rob would be available for a trip critiquing a number of high end restaurants in the north of England.  Steven has accepted a commission from The Observer newspaper to do a travelogue and review column of the locations along the trip.  When he had initially taken the commission Steven had planned to have his gourmand girlfriend Mischa accompany him, but their relationship has been put "on hold" as she has traveled to the United States in the hopes of getting some journalistic commissions of her own.  Steven has run out of options for companions, and so he asks his co-worker of 11 years Rob to join him on the trip.

The movie is a delightfully buddy comedy which takes advantage of the Steven's and Rob's comfortable friendship to create a touching and believable narrative.  While one can enjoy the film just for the buddy comedy that it is, it is also a film that works on two other distinct levels.

First, as a visual representation of the north of England it is beautiful.  The cinematographer captured the moors, mountains, and pastures magnificently and the picturesque representations of bucolic England are one of the best advertisements for a vacation to the country that one could imagine.  Add to the visual beauty food that ranges from the exquisite to the weird, and a nice touch of history, and you have a film that works as a proxy for the travelogue that the Steven character is supposed to be writing.  In making a film depicting a writer journeying to acquire material, the film has managed to visually tell the tale as the character might well be writing.

The second, and more profound, level of the film is the nature of the lives of Steven and Rob and the social commentary contained therein.  Steven represents the urban sophisticate and Rob the bourgeois. 

Steven is the more "internationally famous" actor who has starred in American films and who is seeking more work in America, and who tells his British agent that he doesn't want to do any more British television.  He wants to star in important independent films, and doesn't have time to star as the "baddie" in an upcoming episode of Doctor Who.  Steven is not content with his professional life, and seeks to do something "important." 

Rob's work has mostly been in British television where he is known for his uncanny impressions and for a particular vocal gimmick called "small man trapped in a box."  Before I continue describing Rob's life, you really must experience the small man bit.  It is remarkable, and I couldn't believe it wasn't done with post-production tricks -- but it is something very real.

Rob is portrayed as a working class actor who is quite content with his career and who deeply appreciates the respect and admiration he receives from his fans.  Where Steven is dour, Rob is cheerful -- infectiously so.

It isn't merely creatively that Steven is frustrated.  His personal life is also the shambles.  His girlfriend has just left him, though he is trying to keep a connection to her, and his divorce has had a predictable affect on his relationship with his son -- a son who is rebelling a bit and who is in need of a positive role model.  Steven can't maintain a long term relationship, and he cannot quite keep track of the one night stands he has had.  He is so caught up in the life of the "artiste" and trying to be a kind of tragic artist in personality, that it is hard for him to truly connect with another person.  There is a wonderful moment in the film where he is getting high in a room once used by Coleridge.  Steven is trying his best to affect a kind of moody poetic persona, that it creates a powerful yet muted comedic moment. 

The opposite is true of Rob's life.  He and his wife have only recently had a baby.  They have a strong and delightful relationship filled with laughs.  Where Steven's phone calls end in sighs and "I have to go nows," Rob's conversations don't end on screen.  One can imagine that the playful dialogue between Rob and his wife continues until either they both fall asleep or until the baby awakens in need of some care.  The moments where Rob converses and flirts with his wife on the phone are some of the most personal and magical in the film.

It should be noted that all of Steven's phone calls take place via cell phone, and that his quest for cell phone signals is a humorous sub-plot on its own, while all of Rob's phone calls are on land line.  The cell phone is presented as cold and distant and never really allows the people on either end of the phone to "connect," whereas the land line is portrayed intimately and conversations via land line are akin to cuddling.

Once more the "urban sophisticate" is contrasted to the simpler "bourgeois," a major theme of the film that is portrayed in a number of ways -- always with the "sophistication"/elitism being shown as failing or inappropriate.  Steven rents a Land Rover because "the north has hills," he has accepted a commission to write about food without any real knowledge of food, and so on.

Two of my favorite moments (displayed below) are the very much talked about "Dueling Michael Caines" scene and the "We Rise at Dawn" scene. The "We Rise" scene is maybe one of my favorite comic bits ever. It ranks with "Who's on First" in my mind.

Witty, subtle, beautiful, and rewatchable.  The Trip is one of those rare films that makes a short trip seem like an epic journey, all while never being anything other than a small trip.  It praises family over fame and friendship over facade.

Film Review : Ip Man (2008) -- Ip Man Delivers

Image Copyright Mandarin Films Ltd.

Three of the best Hong Kong martial arts films ever made depict stories of kung fu masters defending Chinese honor during a time of Japanese military occupation. Bruce Lee's Fist of Fury -- called The Chinese Connection in the United States -- is one of the films that helped secure Bruce Lee as a legitimate action star. Jet Li's Fist of Legend improved upon Lee's classic and proved that Jet Li was a martial artist who didn't operate in anyone's shadow. Li's Fearless took the tale back a generation into what is essentially the prequel story to Fist of Fury and Fist of Legend and created a powerful narrative of struggle against tyranny and the power of patriotism.

All of these films are classics in the genre. The story they present is a simple one. The Japanese have invaded the Chinese mainland and are oppressing the people of China. In order to further humiliate the Chinese people, the Japanese forces seek to prove that the Japanese Fist (Karate) is superior to the Chinese Fist (Kung Fu). They hope that doing so will break the spirit of the Chinese people.

Fist of Legend and Fist of Fury both begin with a student of the Jingwu school of martial arts returning home to find that his sifu has been murdered by the Japanese during one of these "honor duels." To make matters worse, the Japanese poisoned the sifu in order to guarantee the win. The student -- filled with the arrogance of his extraordinary skill and the power of his righteous indignation -- enters the Japanese enclave and gives them a quick "lesson" in the Chinese Fist. Things escalate from there.

In Fist of Fury, the Japanese are presented in a stereotypical and demeaning manner. Li's version tones down some of the racism and has Japanese characters who aren't mere two-dimensional villains. The Li version adds a cross-cultural romantic subplot that is one of the many improvements that film adds to the Lee version. Fearless, as a patriotic piece, represents other cultures in a more stereotypical light than Fist of Legend, but in a less offensive manner than Fist of Fury. Fearless, taking place before the action of the two "Fist" films, sets the tone of honor and national pride that makes the two "sequels" narratively possible.

All of these films feature a compelling drama and phenomenal displays of martial arts. Li's fights in Fist of Legend are some of the most compelling martial arts duels to date in film. Li's final battle rivals the end fights in Meals on Wheels and Drunken Master II. Watching the duels it becomes clear that the audience is watching more than a choreographed fight, they are watching Art. The aesthetics of the action are breathtaking. The brave use of wide shots during the action accentuate the beauty in a way that American films have yet to match -- primarily due to American cinema's over reliance on the close up during fight scenes. A static wide angle filming masters is a thing of beauty that shaky close angle shots will never match.

As great as these films are, they all lack one key dramatic component. None of the Li/Lee tales of Japanese oppression truly illustrate how devastating the occupation was to the Chinese people. This is where Donnie Yen's Ip Man takes the established formula of the Fist of genre and pulls it out of the "action film" ghetto and into high drama. Prior to Ip Man, I would have argued that Fist of Legend comes close with its romantic sub-plot, but after Ip Man there is truly no comparison when it comes to moving pathos.

Ip Man tells the tale of Yip Man a humble master of Wing Chun. Ip Man isn't filled with righteous indignation and he is completely lacking in arrogance. He is the antithesis, in many ways, of the able Chinese fighters in the Fist stories. He is a kind family man who is merely seeking to provide for his family and to live an honest life. But he is also a man who can only witness so much injustice before he must step forward to protect his community. When push comes to shove, it isn't the "honor of the Chinese Fist" for which Ip Man fights, it is for the honor of those who have been oppressed.

Donnie Yen's performance as Yip Man is deep and touching. When one watches a martial arts film one expects action, but one doesn't often expect to be given genuine pathos. Yen's substantial martial arts talents deliver on the action end, but his acting chops are proven as well. Yen manipulates the audiences heartstrings as ably as any actor in an "independent tragedy." The film, and Yen, are almost somber in their presentation. This is a film about resisting tyranny, and not a film about revenge. As such, the film gains an emotional power that would otherwise be lacking.

The film, like Fearless, is a highly patriotic film -- presenting the virtue of Chinese society against the tyranny of Japanese society. Like Fist of Legend it portrays a more complex Japanese occupier, though it does portray some negative stereotypes in its depiction of the Japanese political character. Ip Man also displays a more complex Chinese citizen than the past films in the genre. Ip Man's Chinese citizens act like the oppressed, taking actions that undermine the Chinese people and make things easier for the occupying Japanese. Bandits steal from hard working Chinese families instead of fighting the Japanese. Translators hand over Kung Fu masters, though the master's may end up shot if they are too successful against the Japanese, out of fear of punishment and a need to support family. There are no simple quislings in the story, but the oppressed act in ways that make the job of the oppressor easier.

It all makes for one of the most emotionally powerful martial arts films ever made. The action in the film is amazing -- as I have come to expect from Donnie Yen films -- but there is something special about this film that has nothing to do with the action and everything to do with the performance and direction.

Happy Birthday Klarkash-Ton!

Today, in 1893, one of the great trinity of Weird Fiction authors was born. Of the "big three" Weird Fiction authors, Clark Ashton Smith is the one who has least captured the popular imagination. Robert E. Howard's Conan is a figure that looms large in the popular psyche, and Lovecraft's Weird Tales inspired countless authors and a number of films and television episodes. Awareness of Lovecraft's "Cthulhu Mythos" has long been lurking in the depths of the popular subconscious and is slowly surfacing into full awareness.

When will the popular psyche become aware of Klarkash-Ton's literary influence on modern fantasy? Let us hope that day comes sooner rather than later.

I first encountered the writings of Clark Ashton Smith when I read the X2 Castle Amber module for the Dungeons and Dragons Expert Set game written by Tom Moldvay. Castle Amber was one of the first truly narrative adventures written for the Dungeons and Dragons game. It influenced the structure and tone of the classic Ravenloft module, and permanently embedded the name "Etienne D'Amberville" into the hearts of fans of the Known World D&D setting.


I had purchased Castle Amber believing it had some relation to the Amber stories of Roger Zelazny. I was wrong, but I have rarely been so glad to be incorrect. The Castle Amber module is a celebration of the Weird Tale, combining narrative elements from Edgar Allan Poe, H P Lovecraft, and Clark Ashton Smith. The Poe references were obvious to me, even though I was quite young when I first read the module, but the references to a wondrous place called Averoigne were entirely new to me. I had never heard of the "Beast of Averoigne, (nor the Beast of Gévaudan for that matter) "The Colossus of Ylourgne," or "The Holiness of Azédarac." I likely never would have, but for the fact that Moldvay had a brief bibliography listing the stories that influenced Castle Amber.

Up to that time, I had not encountered anything quite like Smith's writing. My fantasy experience had been primarily limited to Tolkien, Brooks, Greek Myths, Arthurian Legend, Moorcock, Zelazny, and Lewis. The truly weird tale had escaped me, but that small bibliography opened new avenues of fantastic fiction to me.

In recent years, publishers have printed some very nice collections of Clark Ashton Smith's works. The University of Nebraska Press has printed Lost Worlds and Out of Space and Time. Night Shade Books has been compiling Smith short stories in wonderful editions. I highly recommend purchasing physical copies of Smith's works, but for the digital reader Eldritch Dark has collected much of Smith's written work -- with proper concern for copyright.

I could write, and talk, about Smith for hours. When I discovered he had lived in Auburn, CA (a city close to my wife's home town), I began a brief obsession with Smith. I even began reading his correspondence...for fun mind you, much of which you can read at the Eldritch Dark website.

I am not the only person on the interwebs celebrating CAS's birthday, the premiere pulp website The Cimmerian has a couple of good posts up today that are worth reading.

Best Roleplaying Games of the Aughts

The Aughts were a great decade for the role playing game industry and for the game player/collector. The wide array of creative and original content to come out during the decade is quite remarkable -- and I believe surprising. I had entered the Aughts believing that there would be no way that the new decade could compete with the 90s with regard to exciting new ideas/settings/rules in roleplaying games, but left the decade finding myself pleased to be wrong.

The 90s had seen the release of the World of Darkness games by White Wolf Publishing, Feng Shui by Daedalus and later Atlas Games, The Marvel Adventure Game by TSR, Brave New World by Pinnacle and later AEG, Deadlands by Pinnacle Games, and Hero 4th Edition. That list of games, games that expanded the appeal of roleplaying games beyond the small community of gamers that existed at the time, only scratches the surface and leaves out many excellent products. The 1990s saw a new generation of game designers releasing products into the marketplace that not only improved gameplay, but improved production values and saw the beginnings of a "professionalization" of the industry.

I could spend a long time writing about the trends of the roleplaying game industry in the Aughts, but that would be worthy of a series of posts and isn't suited as a preface to a list of great games.

Instead, I'll get to the list as promptly as possible. Below are my 10 (actually 11) favorite roleplaying games to come out in the Aughts. These aren't the only great games to come out during the decade, but they are the ones that I find myself most frequently reading, playing, and enjoying. Future posts will include discussions of why these games are so remarkable.

1) Dungeons and Dragons 3rd Edition (and 3.5)

2) Savage Worlds

3) Burning Wheel

4) Trail of Cthulhu

5) Hero System 5th Edition

6) Dragon Warriors

7) Dungeons and Dragons 4th Edition

8) Spirit of the Century

9) My Life with Master

10) Scion: Hero, Demi-God, God

11) Fireborn

Hulu Recommendation Friday: Angel and the Badman

John Wayne didn't receive formal accolades for his acting ability until his 1970 performance as Marshall Reuben J. "Rooster" Cogburn. It is often argued that the reason the Oscar, and Golden Globe, was awarded is due to the fact that in playing "against type" John Wayne finally proved that he was a capable actor. Those who make this argument often point to the John Wayne film, The Shootist, as another example of how the "usually cardboard" Wayne was able to bring another powerful performance to screen.

Those who believe that John Wayne only came into "deep" acting later in his career are wearing some fairly narrow blinders and have to ignore a long list of worthy performances.

Wayne's performance in The Quiet Man is simultaneously vulnerable and powerful, passionate and reserved, melancholy and puckish. The film is a joy to watch for a wide variety of reason, but John Wayne's wonderful performance is one of those reasons.

In The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, a movie where Wayne simultaneously plays the stereotype and breaks it wide open, Wayne's performance uses the audience's knowledge of his past films to good effect. Audiences were used to seeing the tough Wayne who met challenges head on, kills the bad guy, is fawned upon by the community, and who often ended up with the girl -- a perfect example of this character is Wayne's performance in Rio Bravo or Stagecoach. But Tom Donophon, Wayne's character in Valance, only accomplishes two of these line items. Donophon does that most remarkable of things. He gives credit, and all the rewards due to the individual to whom credit is given, to another man -- a man he believes to be better than himself. The film is a perfect argument against Machiavellian style politics, and a presentation of true heroic virtue. Donophon refuses to take any credit for a heroic deed, even though it means he must live without the woman he loves. He does this because the community needs him to do it. Wayne's performance is powerful in this film, and his heartbreak is palpable.

There are several other examples in Wayne's career of great performances, The Searchers and Red River also immediately jump to mind, but one of those performances that is often overlooked is Angel and the Badman a film in which we see glimpses of the actor's potential to break free from the cardboard hero in a screenplay were the audience, like in the later Valance, can see that there is more to the Western than good guy kills bad guy.



In Angel and the Badman, we see Wayne without the scaffolding of Howard Hawks or John Ford. This time, Wayne is directed by James Edward Grant who is better known for his screenplays than his directing, and who no one would argue was an auteur. The film is a vehicle for Wayne as "John Wayne," but it ends up being much more than that.

The film's story is a simple one. Quirt Evans is a man of the West. He largely lives outside the law, taking what he wants, and living life to its hedonistic fullest. Quirt isn't a purely evil man, but he is an amoral one and his flexible morality has come into conflict with another outlaw named Laredo Stevens.

So far, the names and character types are almost caricatures from a bad dime novel. Quirt? Laredo? These aren't names of characters one expects in a film of substance. That's typically true, but Grant -- who also wrote the screenplay -- is about to take our expectations of a cardboard tale and throw it for a loop.

As might be expected, Quirt gets injured in a rundown with Laredo. Quirt's injuries are not small and he ends up demanding to be cared for by a family of Quakers named Worth. Penelope Worth (Gail Russell) -- again with those obvious names -- takes a high interest in Quirt and the two eventually develop an emotional attachment. In the end, Quirt must choose between love and violence, between living a moral life or defending those he has come to love by murdering the villain Laredo.

This would all be typical stuff, and the audience can see which way the wind is taking Wayne by the color of his hat in a given scene as it alternates between black and white, except that Grant is making a more sophisticated argument than one might initially expect -- and Wayne is able to portray the moral complexity of the character required to advance that argument. Grant doesn't merely give us a tale where pacifism equals moral virtue and violent action equals moral vice. The film is as complex as High Noon in the way it balances legitimate authority and pacifism.

The Worth family, while happy, is suffering due to their religious practices and it is only Quirt who can convince their neighbor to give them the water they need to thrive. It is the threat of implied violence that accompanies Quirt that initially changes the mind of their Scrooge like neighbor to share water with the Worth family. The neighbor shares because he is scared that Quirt will kill him if he doesn't comply. What makes the scene powerful is that Quirt went to the neighbor unarmed, and with good intentions, and that the bond of neighborly friendship is cemented by the kindness of the Worth family. There is another scene where the threat of Quirt using violence saves the lives of the family.

Grant's argument in the film seems to be that violence, and the threat of violence, isn't in itself evil, but that the application of violence is only moral when done through proper authority. There are some great parallels between this film and the earlier mentioned High Noon, of particular interest is a comparison of the endings of the two films, and both films require subtle performances from underrated actors. Wayne's portrayal of Quirt begins as you might expect a Wayne performance to play out, but as it continues and Quirt transforms from Badman to Man it is Wayne's performance that makes it work. One can see glimpses of the performances Wayne would later bring to the screen, and one also gets to see how a writer can use the clichéd tropes of a genre and manipulate them into a more complex tale than one usually expects.

Movies Christian Loves, But Shouldn't #2: Trancers

In the mid-90s, my roommate Rich Berman introduced me to a number of wonderful geek entertainments I might otherwise have overlooked. It is because of him that I am such a big Wing Commander (the video games) fan and it is because of him that I am buying the reprint editions of the Lone Wolf Books that Mongoose Publishing is slowly but surely getting out the door. These products have provided me with untold hours of entertainment and continue to do so years after they were initially released.

For the most part, if Rich recommended it then it was worth the time and effort. As much as I trusted Rich's recommendations, there was one recommendation I had ignored for almost fifteen years. There was a series of movies that Rich enjoyed that I just couldn't quite talk myself into watching. That series was the Trancers series of films by Full Moon Video. I don't know if it was anti-D2Video snobbishness or Full Moon's association with the Puppet Master series that prevented me from listening to my friend's advice and plopping the film in the VCR to enjoy the ride. More than likely it was the Puppet Master, since any anti-D2Video bias I might have didn't prevent me from watching, and enjoying, classics like Full Eclipse starring Mario Van Peebles. It wasn't until last week that I finally got around to watching Trancers and found yet another one of Rich's recommendation's to be enjoyable.

The film's plot is simple enough. Jack Deth (Tim Thomerson) is an Angel City (Los Angeles) police officer -- they are called Troopers in the future -- in the year 2247 who is obsessively hunting down and "singe-ing" Trancers. As Jack's opening film noir-esque monologue put's it:

"Last January, I finally singed Martin Whistler out on one of the rim planets. Since then, I've been hunting down the last of his murdering cult. We call them 'Trancers:' slaves to Whistler's psychic power. Not really alive, not dead enough. It's July now, and I'm tired. Real tired."

Just when Jack thinks he's defeated the last of the Trancers, he discovers that Martin Whistler -- the psionic head of the Trancer cult -- is still alive. Whistler has traveled back in time to 1985 where he is murdering the ancestors of those who opposed his rise to power in the 23rd century. By eliminating the ancestors Whistler is eliminating all of his enemies as well. It is up to Jack Deth to travel back in time, eliminate Whistler, and prevent all of Angel City from becoming members of the Trancer cult.

The film has noir elements, a psionic powered mastermind, psionically influenced "zombies" who spontaneously combust after they die, time travel, a future Los Angeles completely submerged under water, and a young Helen Hunt. The film is an enjoyable romp that spawned a number of sequels, but it is a film that oughtn't have its narrative scrutinized to closely. It really falls apart under the microscope.

Here are some examples of the "ragged edges" of the film:

• When told he has to go back in time to stop Whistler by the Council. The Council openly talks about the one Council member Whistler has already eliminated. Given that that Council member has now -- at this point in the plot -- never existed, that is quite a feat of metatemporal memory.
• Your physical body cannot travel back through time -- your consciousness must possess that of an ancestor -- but physical objects can be sent back for your use.
• Jack Deth killed Whistler on one of the "rim planets," but there is no other mention of planetary travel.
• Time travel is a "condition" that can be given an antidote vaccine which brings the person back to the future.

One could probably write an entire book about the flaws of the film, or write a snarky "better than thou" review of it. Such efforts would be misguided though. Trancers is one of those movies that if you watched it on Mystery Science Theater, you would want the guys to shut up because you were having a fun enough time without the snark.

Trancers doesn't pretend to be something it isn't. It doesn't put on airs or quote philosophy. The movie is a straight forward action romp where a future cop hunts down psionically controlled zombies in "modern day" Los Angeles -- a city he only knows about because of his frequent scuba diving excursions.

Can you really ask for more than psionically controlled zombies? I can't -- especially when one of those zombies is a "mall Santa."

Anne Thompson, Toy Movies, District 9, and the Indie/Popular Divide

I am a great admirer of Anne Thompson and find the majority of her coverage of Hollywood to be insightful, and to be honest "must reading." But there are times when I just have to cross her name off of the Holiday card list, and her recent post discussing the merits of District 9 while excoriating Hollywood for making films like GI Joe is one of those times.

Certainly, Thompson is right to praise a film like District 9 which manages to bring to the big screen quality science fiction at a budget price. Geekerati plans to do a show this weekend begging the question, "is there an inverse relationship between budget and the quality of an SF film?" Where Anne wanders off into the hinterlands of privilege, snobbery, killjoydom, and filmic cultural selectivity is when she writes, "That’s why I want G.I. Joe to take a dive this weekend (sorry Lorenzo Di Bonaventura), not because I want Paramount to lose money but because I want the Transformers-blinded studios to see that derivative toy movies are not the only way to go." Even worse, she goes on to claim that Hollywood executives, "In their search for franchises and tentpoles... ignore the obvious: most of them were once originals, from Star Wars and Lethal Weapon to The Matrix and Raiders of the Lost Ark."

One find's it hard to believe that a journalist covering Hollywood could write such passages, that is unless the same journalist happens to be wearing her Blinders of Public Disdain +5. Apparently, Anne owns a pair of those not so rare magic items -- or maybe she has the powerful artifact Schiller's Monocle of Aesthetic Disdain. Whatever the case may be, her statements are not only disrespectful of a particular audience demographic (Gen X and younger males), but are just plain incorrect at one level -- she is correct in stating "studios often forget what their customers really want: something new that they’ve never seen before". She just forgets that they equally want something that they are nostalgic for.

It's one thing to assert Anne's wrongheadedness, but one must address the individual statements and analyze them as well.

First, why should Anne want GI JOE to fail because she "want[s] the Transformers-blinded studios to see that derivative toy movies are not the only way to go?" Is it necessary for studios to fail for them to see that movies inspired by nostalgia for a particular intellectual property aren't the only way to go?

Not a chance.

If the films should be required to fail, it should be because they fail to inspire the same level of awe that was created by the intellectual property audiences feel nostalgia for in the first place. Hollywood should make hundreds of "derivative toy movies" if they manage to capture the mystique of the original IP -- especially if they are profitable. Transformers has failed to do this twice, largely because they have erred to much on the side of making adolescents laugh and not enough on telling a good story. This is the opposite error that many childrens movies make today, the modern kid flick spends to much time making sure to wink at the adults in the audience and not enough time telling a compelling story. If Transformers 2 had fewer "ball" jokes, and a more coherent narrative, the film would have been amazing. Sadly, that was not the case. It's hard to say that Transformers had a derivative narrative, since it's hard to say what the narrative of the film even was -- other than giant robots blowing stuff up.

This isn't true of GI Joe: The Rise of Cobra. The Joe film managed to have an underlying narrative that was fairly original.

[Spoiler Alert that contains information that even those who saw the movie may not have understood] Cobra's plan was to replace the President of the United States with a Cobra agent so that when a major terrorist attack took place the world would turn to the US for leadership, only to end up under the direct control of the terrorist group behind the attack.[End Spoiler Alert]

That's a pretty cool underlying premise. The execution of the film is flawed, as the film tries to do to much in some areas and not enough in others, but that's not a particularly derivative story. In fact, in structure and execution one could argue that the GI JOE film is the true heir to the 007 films of Connery and Moore -- as the Craig movies are more a return to the tone and feel of the novels. One can argue that Joe wasted money on cast, money it didn't need to spend, since it is the IP and not the cast that brings one to a nostalgia fest, but one shouldn't argue that it was derivative. "Original?" No. "Awe Inspiring?" No. But if one imagines what the collective mind of 12 year old boys in 1984 want out of a Joe film, one gets a film pretty close to what ended up on the screen. That was the point, to fuel and feed off of nostalgia.

Even more to the point of it not being "necessary for studios to fail for them to see that movies inspired by nostalgia for a particular intellectual property aren't the only way to go?" Let's look at some very successful films from the past decade that break from the "tent pole" assumptions. My Big Fat Greek Wedding and Mama Mia! by themselves provide ample proof that lower budget movies aimed at a "non-tent pole" audience (read: not 18-35 males) can make an amazing amount of profit. It is necessary that non-extravaganzas be made and be successful for studios to see these films have value. The more that are made, the more that will be made...by the studios. Studios will go where the money is. It is easy to do a Net Present Value analysis of an existing IP, with an established fan base. It is much more difficult to do one on an unknown idea. You have to be willing to take a risk and lose money, and that's something that business people don't like to do. They don't like to spend good money after bad.

Want to watch your investment money disappear faster than an addiction to crystal meth? Invest in an independent movie that you believe in. Risky films are risky. That's why Hollywood, which is risk averse because it likes profits, doesn't make a lot of these films. Show them that the risk isn't as big as they believe, and you can and will see more films like Juno.

Never mind the logical fallacy that "toy movies" need to fail for studios to learn there are other options, even more egregious is Thompson's assertion that "most of them [tentpoles] were once originals, from Star Wars and Lethal Weapon to The Matrix and Raiders of the Lost Ark." Originals? Really? Are you serious? I'll give you The Matrix (just), but the others?

Can Thompson actually believe that Star Wars, a masterful combination of the narratives of Hidden Fortress and the Flash Gordon serials -- which includes frames lifted straight out of Flash Gordon, is original? Shoot me now. Star Wars is amazing, but it is highly derivative. It is homage.

The same is true for the Allan Quartermain inspired Raiders of the Lost Ark. Could this movie exist without King Solomon's Mines? Not a chance. Raiders is phenomenal because it captures the essence of the old serials and combines it with the raw fun of H. Rider Haggard's tales. As an aside, King Kong is a combination of Haggard's tales with Conan Doyle's The Lost World. Raiders appealed to a nostalgia in a particular generation and did it so well it created nostalgia in a new one.

If Thompson is even trying to hint at the fact that Hollywood's great movies were "original," I can already feel the milk bubbling through my nose from the laughter.

Gone with the Wind? Based on a novel.
Wizard of Oz? Based on a novel.
West Side Story? Based on a Broadway musical, based on Romeo and Juliet.
The Maltese Falcon (1941)? Based on a Dashiell Hammett novel and had three theatrical versions between 1931 and 1941. Three in a decade before they made a great version?!
Yojimbo? Based on Dashiell Hammett's Red Harvest with a touch of The Glass Key thrown in for good measure.
Rashomon? Based on a short story.

I could go on and on and on. Hollywood isn't in the business of making "original" stories. Heck, film makers aren't in the business of making "original" stories. Hollywood is in the business of making money. Film makers are in the business of entertaining. Sometimes they entertain us with original ideas, and some times they entertain us with familiar ones. I put no preference on either category. I just want to be entertained...and sometimes educated when I'm feeling Aristotelian.

As for District 9? I'm excited about this combination of Alien Nation, V, and Cry Freedom. Though I do share some of Science Fiction author Steven Barnes' concerns.

Truth is, there is a lot of truth in Anne's article. Hollywood should remember that there is a relationship between risk and reward. The higher the risk, the greater the potential reward. Films like GI JOE may have a predictable NPV, but they aren't going to provide the high levels of profitability that something like My Big Fat Greek Wedding are going to bring.

Hollywood should take some risks.

But Anne...you need to stop hating the male Gen X and younger audience. We just want to be reminded of those afternoons when we and our friends made up stories while playing with our GI JOE and TRANSFORMERS action figures.

Are Movies Worse Today? 1967 vs. 1987

As mentioned in a prior post, Anne Thompson commented recently, in a post about changes in the number of films the Academy will review for Best Picture, that "bottom line though, the Academy had more quality films to choose from then than they do now." We're putting this claim to the test.

A respected commenter added a clarifying note regarding the "Are Classic Movies Better" post. Professor Nokes reminded Cinerati of the importance of specificity when using language, by pointing out that by definition Classic movies are better. Classic movies, by definition, being old movies that have withstood the test of time -- the canon of film if you will. Since our contention is not that Classic movies are no better than Modern films, rather that films made in prior decades are not on average better than Modern films, this is a useful correction.

I would have been better served to use the post-structuralist "Classic," rather than the literal Classic, as that use has the implied irony I was attempting to bring to the front. That a film was made in some bygone era doesn't automatically mean the film is a genuine Classic, at least that is the assertion of this series. Though I would love to use the ironic post-structural word in the future, I won't use it. In order to remain clear, I will now call films made during prior decades Older films rather than Classic films. Certainly, some of the films are Classics (but so are some Modern films), but all of them are Older.

Now that I have clarified the purpose of this series, let's move on to the first comparison.


Below is the list of the 1967 nominees for best picture with the addition of Anne Thompson's film historian friend's +5. This list will be followed by some Cinerati commentary, the list of the 1987 nominees plus my +5, and some closing commentary.

1967 original nominees

• In the Heat of the Night [winner]
• Bonnie and Clyde
• Doctor Dolittle
• The Graduate
• Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

PLUS

• Camelot
• Cool Hand Luke
• In Cold Blood
• The Dirty Dozen
• Two for the Road

There are two things that become clear from looking at the list of films above. First, 1967 was a pretty good year for movies. Quite a few of my favorite films are in that nominees+5 list. I am particularly enamored of Doctor Dolittle due to memories from my childhood of watching the film on VHS with my grandfather. Second, one can quickly see just from the films that 1967 was a year where the USA was undergoing some cultural shifts. The massive violence of Bonnie and Clyde was shocking to some audiences, two of the films deal heavily with race issues, the role of sexual liberation in Camelot's portrayal of Guenevere, are all indicative of the changes the society was facing at the time.

I would argue though that two of these films would be laughed at by modern critics, if viewed without the rose colored glasses of nostalgia. I love Doctor Dolittle and think it is a great film. But if it had come out in 2009 rather than 1967 (as exactly the same picture), the film would be derided as frivolous childhood fare not worthy of artistic consideration. If this weren't true, we would see films like Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone nominated for Best Picture. Potter received three Oscar nominations, had a stellar cast of brilliant British actors, but was not nominated for Best Picture. My guess is because as children's fare it is taken less seriously, this is further evinced by the fact that the BAFTAs nominated it for Best Children's Feature. Surely, one can argue that I am overstating things, but based on my discussions with current film critics I don't believe it to be the case. The older critics seem too "sophisticated" and the younger critics are often too "gothtentious" to consider a film like Dolittle for an Oscar nod -- particularly over a film like Cool Hand Luke.

I could make a similar argument for why modern critics would overlook Camelot, not for its childishness. In this case, Camelot would be overlooked for being "over done." It's a very good film. I find its representation of Guenevere to be extremely unsympathetic, and think it flawed in that regard, but the acting, singing, and narrative are extremely compelling.

I can take or leave The Graduate. For me it is a film too deeply rooted in its era to inspire or challenge me. It's well shot, well acted, entertaining, but in the end uninspiring. I'll watch Cool Hand Luke over The Graduate any day of the week.

All in all, 1967 was a still a very good year for movies. How does 1987 compare?

1987 original nominees

• The Last Emperor [winner]
• Broadcast News
• Fatal Attraction
• Hope and Glory
• Moonstruck

PLUS

• Empire of the Sun
• Raising Arizona
• Full Metal Jacket
• Good Morning, Vietnam
• Cry Freedom

Looking at the list above, one might believe that I stacked the deck against Anne by choosing 1987. I should also note that the +5 part of the list comes not from my own opinions, but from Tim Dirks of Filmsite. When I saw his discussion of overlooked films, I found I agreed with him and thus used those rather than create my own +5 which would have looked pretty much the same. With the exception of the over-rated at the time Fatal Attraction, 1987 is a very good year for films receiving Academy consideration -- and would be with the +5 rule as well.

Like 1967, one can see the social issues of the day reflected in the important films of the year. Broadcast News was an entertaining look at news media that demonstrated how society was beginning to see that what was presented to us as "news" was in many ways mere show business. One thinks that James L. Brooks wouldn't find something like TMZ suprising, upsetting maybe but not surprising. The Last Emperor is a touching tale brought to the big screen in the final years of the Cold War. It is a touching film that looks at humanity and the transition of a culture from Empire to Revolution to Stability -- a culture that is still undergoing the process depicted in the film.

Hope and Glory is ostensibly about a child living in England throughout WWII, but one can easily see reflections of Cold War sentiments underlying the tensions of the film. While most Gen X-ers hadn't undergone drills showing them what to do in case of a nuclear attack, as Boomers had experienced, but they still lived with an underlying dread rooted in the potential of nuclear war. Hope and Glory in depicting life in a London suburb during WWII, demonstrated that while war is a time of constant upheaval it is also a time that can be endured.

Two of the films in the +5 are narratives that take place during the Vietnam War, a conflict from which America was very much in need of healing in the 1980s (and still today). The movies come at the conflict from different narrative perspectives -- one is a drama and one is a dramedy -- but they each have power.

Cry Freedom is as politically important a film as one can imagine. Denzel Washington's performance as Steven Biko makes one wish this was more a film about Biko and less a film about a heroic journalist (played by Kevin Kline) who will tell his tale.

If you don't recognize Raising Arizona as one of the all-time great comedies, you lack a sense of humor. In the film, the Coen brothers put their ability to tell epic stories about mundane characters on high display.

Looking at the Academy films (and +5s) from 1967 and 1987, I don't think the Academy had remarkably better films to judge in the earlier year. Both years are very strong. One can make an argument that 1967 is stronger, but I think one could equally make an argument that 1987 is stronger.

I'd also like to go a little deeper into the respective years. The quality of the film industry shouldn't merely be measured by the "Academy worthy" films of a given year. Many genuine Classics are films I would never argue should win an Oscar. One doesn't immediately think "Best Picture" when one is watching Bringing Up Baby, but one does certainly think it is a Classic. It is simply one of the most entertaining films ever made. How do 1967 and 1987 stack up when it comes to the entertaining films offered?

Cinerati's 10 Best Non-Oscar "Entertainment" Films of 1967 in No Particular Order

• A Fistful of Dollars
• Valley of the Dolls
• Bedazzled
• The Jungle Book
• Point Blank
• To Sir With Love
• You Only Live Twice
• In Like Flint
• The Good the Bad and the Ugly

That's a pretty good list of entertaining films. I am particularly fond of the Moore/Cook comedy Bedazzled. Most of these films are films that people still watch and most are considered classics. It should be noted that Barefoot in the Park and For a Few Dollars More were also released in 1967. You Only Live Twice is arguably the first use of Ninja in a "Western" film. Point Blank has a darkness that the more recent Mel Gibson version of the story Payback lacks. Unarguably, 1967 was a good year for movies in general and not just Award worthy films. But it is also the year one of my least favorite films was made. The lame and contrived Casino Royale comedy was released that year, a film to metacognitive for its own good.

What about 1987?

Cinerati's 10 Best Non-Oscar "Entertainment" Films of 1987 in No Particular Order

• Lethal Weapon
• Evil Dead II
• Predator
• The Untouchables
• The Princess Bride
• 3 Men and a Baby
• Overboard
• Near Dark
• Dirty Dancing

1987 also saw the release of La Bamba, Robocop, The Secret of My Succe$s, River's Edge, Inner Space, Baby Boom, No Way Out, and The Monster Squad. It's hard to compete with the Spaghetti Western trilogy of Clint Eastwood, so 1967 wins for being bad ass. But it should be noted that much of the entertaining fare of 1987 is very entertaining. The Princess Bride is a wonderfully enchanting tale that people will be watching for generations to come. Overboard is a romantic comedy that ranks up in my enjoyment factor with Bringing Up Baby -- as are Baby Boom and 3 Men and a Baby for that matter.

Kathryn Bigelow's Near Dark is one of my favorite vampire films and is must see for any fans of the HBO True Blood series. The vampires in Bigelow's film are a refreshing alternative from the sexy and alluring vampires typically presented, these are stone cold killers on a rampage. It's also an important film because Bigelow demonstrated, as she continues to demonstrate, that women directors can very ably direct things other than "women's films."

1967 wins because of the Spaghetti Western trilogy, but 1987 is one heck of a fun year for movie fans.

Are Modern Films Really Worse than Classic Films? A Blog Series Introduction

On the 24th of June, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences announced that Academy members would vote for Best Picture from a selection of 10 films rather than the 5 that had become standard. They assert that this is a return to an older Academy tradition and are pitching the change by doing a bi-coastal screening of the 10 films nominated in 1939 -- an amazing year for movies.

In response to the announcement, Anne Thompson shared the contents of an email a film historian sent her which listed an "imaginary" additional five nominees for the years 1967 through 1979 as a demonstration of films that had been overlooked by the Academy in years past. It's a fun read, filled with some pretty keen analysis.

In her introduction to the email, Thompson asserts, "Bottom line though, the Academy had more quality films to choose from then than they do now."

Such a statement immediately begs the question, "Really?! The Academy had more quality films to choose from then than they do now?" I find the statement to be on the face incredible -- traditional definition -- and a bit knee-jerk in the certitude of the statement. Certainly, my own reaction to the statement is knee-jerk as well. My assumption is that Thompson is wrong, but is she? The only way to find out is to do a year to year comparison continuing from a date after 1979 and comparing it to past years. One could easily write a book on the subject if one wanted to do an in depth analysis, one could probably write a book merely on what the best methodology to use for comparison.

I have neither the will, nor the luxury of time to do that. So I offer the following. I will create my own "nominee+5" lists for each year starting in 1987 and compare that year to the year twenty years prior. Thus 1987 will be compared to 1967. Each list will be done in a single blog post. After I have completed the first set, I will begin again in 1997 and compare to a year 30 years prior. The +5 "best of year x" list will be one of my own choosing, and thus will hopefully spark conversation as you may believe that some other films deserve to be in the +5. The merit of a given year won't merely rest on my own +5, but include those anyone else can think of as well. After all, we are measuring whether the "now" holds a candle to the "then." That, and not whether my specific choices are the best, is the question that should be discussed.

Stay tuned to this blog for 1987 vs. 1967, the first in a series of posts.

Films Christian Loves: THE LADY VANISHES

I once asked a dear friend what her favorite Hitchcock movie was. Without a second's hesitation, she stated that it was THE LADY VANISHES. We talked about the strengths of certain Hitchcock films, the weaknesses of others, and why we preferred certain films in his catalog to others.

I have never really bought into the whole "Master of Suspense" label given to Hitch. Certainly, he has directed some wonderfully suspenseful films, and his television show consistently featured suspenseful tales. That's all well and good, but the one thing that all of my favorite Hitchcock films -- save one -- share is a wonderful romance. THE LADY VANISHES contains one such romance. Ostensibly, the film is a mystery, but in reality the film is a wonderful romance -- romantic comedy even.

During the set up of the narrative a young woman named Iris meets a charming older lady named Miss Froy while on a train ride through a fictional central European country. The two hit it off splendidly. But when young miss Iris awakens after passing out on the journey, she awakens to find that Miss Froy is missing. From here the mystery, including some international espionage, begins. This is also when the romance begins. Due to the nature of Iris' earlier unconscious spell, most people write of "Miss Froy" as an hallucination. This is not true for dashing young Gilber, a student of music who has been studying the folk songs of the region. There is something about the young woman's confidence in describing her encounter with Miss Froy that makes Gilbert skeptical of those who dismiss it as mere hallucination. The mystery follows a standard format, but the romance is what makes the tale worth watching. The same is true for most of my favorite Hitchcock films, from To Catch a Thief to The Man Who Knew Too Much (the original version without Jimmy Stewart). Hitchcock's ability to bring romance to the tale is what gives these films their verisimilitude and allows the audience to forget how "setty" the Hitchcockian world appears. The people are real, so we don't need a real looking world.

Sit back and enjoy a masterful film, thanks to Hulu.



THE LADY VANISHES is a great film, but if you were wondering if it is the answer to a question on my "How Well Do You Know Christian?" Facebook quiz -- it isn't.

It should also be noted that the underlying basis for the mystery in this film is likely inspired by real events. During the 1867 Paris World Exposition a woman disappeared and authorities refused to believe the woman's daughter that the woman was ever in attendance at the fair -- a fictional version of the tale is Verwehte Spuren. The 1867 event also served as the inspiration to one of my favorite pulp series, The Avenger.

Movies Christian Loves, But Shouldn't #1: Vision Quest

A couple of weeks ago, Nancy Rommelmann -- who put this interesting piece on a question of journalistic ethics up Tuesday -- had a post on her blog asking her readers to post links to songs they should hate, but find immensely enjoyable. Naturally, this prompted me to post a Rick Roll in the comments section. I did this for three reasons. For the fun of it, because the post was essentially begging me to, and because it genuinely is a song that always gets me to do the embarrassing "sway the arms while driving" dance. Her post also prompted me to check out the new Tinted Windows "supergroup" CD, which I have found I enjoy in that Oneders kind of way. Tinted Windows is fronted by Taylor Hanson, of Hanson fame, so I should despise them -- but I find my mp3 player playing a disproportionate number of songs from the album.

Needless to say, Rommelmann's post reminded me of one of the two songs that I truly cannot turn away from -- John Waite's Change -- and the film that contains the scene that always jumps to the forefront of my mind when I hear the song.

Excuse me, I'll be right back. I have to work out before I finish this post.

Click the second link in the above paragraph to watch the scene while I jump rope for two minutes.

Whew...back.

Now that you have clicked the last link, you know that John Waite's Change reminds me of the film Vision Quest. If someone were to describe the plot of the film to me in order to see if I would be interested in watching it with them, they'd have to wake me up a couple of seconds after they began their synopsis. The story is the typical coming of age high school male story that usually leaves me cold. Very rarely do they touch upon anything I find meaningful. I usually find the protagonists alien and the world they come from foreign.

Take White Water Summer, starring Sean Astin, as an example. I'm supposed to sympathize with Astin's character, and the fact that I like the actor should make this easy, but I never have. I see Astin's "city kid forced to endure the tyranny of a psychopathic camping enthusiast" as a lying cheating wuss. I always root for Kevin Bacon, who plays the mentally unstable youth counselor. Astin's character just needs to suck it up. And don't even get me going on how The Karate Kid's Daniel-san deserves every Karate kick to the gut he gets after he lied about knowing the martial arts. If you lie to be cool, you'd better be willing to face the consequences -- even if they mean your leg gets swept.

Vision Quest is the tale of Louden Swain (Matthew Modine) who decides to attempt an impossible task. He decides to leave his wrestling weight class, where he is likely the best wrestler in Washington state, to go down two weight classes and wrestle an inhuman wrestling machine named Shute. Shute is so inhuman that his workout regimen includes carrying a massive log on his back while he walks up and down every step of a college football stadium. It is a boring and predictable plot that we've seen done better in the classic Breaking Away where the actions of the protagonist speak for the frustrations of an entire socio-economic sub-culture. Swain isn't a proxy for the frustrations of blue collar Americans who have watched their hopes and dreams disappear as the economy has made the trades of their parents -- and what their future might have been -- obsolete. Swain's character lacks that depth, so I should hate the film.

But I don't. I own the DVD, and whenever Vision Quest is on cable I am compelled to watch. In the case of Vision Quest, it isn't the story that keeps me coming back, it is the characters. Louden Swain was one of the first characters I saw that seemed like a real person to me. When he talked about why he did one thing or another, it made sense and Matthew Modine's performance captured the sense of confusion I felt throughout my teen years.

Then there's Linda Fiorentino. I'd like to take a moment to thank the movies of the '80s for bringing Linda Fiorentino to the big screen. Her performances in Vision Quest and Gotcha! are two of the sexiest performances I have ever seen in film. The 14 year-old boy I was when I saw this movie quickly learned how powerful teenage hormones can be, and he had Linda Fiorentino to thank. This isn't to say that Fiorentino's performance is all "beauty" and no substance, it is the enigmatic depth of her character that makes her so appealing. Here is a women who simultaneously displays interest and disdain, certainty and confusion, naiveté and experience. She's quite a character, and leaves a lasting impression on any viewer.

Even the films minor characters leave lasting impressions. From Daphne Zuniga's performance as the plucky young editor of the school newspaper to Michael Schoeffling's performance as Kuch, one gets a sense of having met real people when the film has ended. When I saw Gross Anatomy years later, it was easy to imagine that the Matthew Modine and Daphne Zuniga characters were the same people from Vision Quest four years later. It should be noted that Zuniga's cute and quirky performance in this film so impressed the 14 year-old me that it is she who I have had a crush on ever since and not Linda Fiorentino. Yes, Fiorentino is a sexual force on the screen, but Zuniga is who I wanted to date.

Even though I should hate it, I can think of far worse things to do with 90 minutes than watch Vision Quest.