Vampyres (Larraz, 1974)

"They shared the pleasures of the flesh, and the horrors of the grave!"

A drab attempt at horror eroticism. There's an interesting patina of decay over Larraz's film, particularly evident in the production design and cinematography, which captures a sort of baroque decadence left to rot, but the rest of the film is so amateur that one can't really call this a worthwhile film, even as historical document.

Deepstar Six (Cunningham, 1989)

"Save Your Last Breath... To Scream."

The least of the aquatic horror films that sprung up around The Abyss. Far worse than Leviathan (which I still maintain isn't a terrible film). I can remember seeing the box for Deepstar Six countless times at the local video store when I was growing up and always being intrigued but unfortunately, this fits squarely into that (very 80's) horror category of films that utterly fail to deliver on the promise of their incredible VHS box art. The characters are all stock, the dialogue is atrocious, the creature is poorly designed and executed, and the narrative is cliche and lazy. The are only very minor pleasures to be had here and you really have to look for them - set design, the deep sea setting - but even those are more a case of the viewer really seeking out something from which to derive worth.

Let Me In (Reeves, 2010)

A very curious remake. I'm not entirely sure where I stand on this. Taken on it's own merits, Reeves's film is very, very good. And he does add a few new visual elements, including an incredible, visceral sequence towards the middle of the film. But the bulk of the reason that this film is so good is because it is essentially and undeniably Let The Right One In.

Dark Night Of The Scarecrow (De Felitta, 1981)

"Bubba didn't tell you that, Bubba didn't tell you anything. Bubba's dead."

"I Know."

An earnest, solid, workmanlike effort that attempts to scare with sound and suggestion rather than the violence we are so accustomed to seeing today. Durning commits himself completely to his villain role, and I can see why many people who caught this made-for-TV film back in 1981 remember it fondly, as it has a rather nostalgic quality about it, regardless of whether you've seen it before or not. Keep in mind that much of the popular opinion of this film is most likely inflated by memory, but still, watching this reminds one that there was a time when horror films were allowed to take their time and build up an atmosphere.

The 2nd Annual Shocktober Horrorfest!!!

Welcome to the sophomore edition of the Shocktober Horrorfest! It's something I do every year (or try to do), but the last time I blogged about it was way back in 2007. The concept is simple - Every day, from October 1st until Halloween night, I'll be watching and commenting on at least one horror film, culminating in a big marathon on the 31st. The comments will range from brief impressions to longer, in-depth studies, depending on how the film strikes me. As I did with Horrorfest no. 1, I'll be putting up a Horrorfest sidebar with easy access to every review in the series right here below this post. This is one of the great pleasures of the year in terms of film for me, and it is my hope that those of you who read my blog will discover hidden gems, rediscover and revisit old classics, and if you don't already, come to appreciate horror films (even the bad ones).

As always, please feel free to comment and discuss, and if anyone has any suggestions for horror films they'd like to see reviewed, send them my way. Enjoy!

Shocktober Horrorfest '10:
10/1:
Dark Night of the Scarecrow
10/2:
Let Me In
10/3:
Deepstar Six
10/4:
Vampyres
10/5:
Scarecrows
10/6:
Wrong Turn 2: Dead End
10/7:
Tombs of the Blind Dead
10/8:
The Church
10/9:
The Fly II
10/10:
Critters
10/11:
Hereafter
10/12:
Pet Sematary II
10/13:
The Dunwich Horror

Back Again, or If A Blog Restarts In A Forest And There's No One Around To Read It....

Hey everyone. I doubt anyone is still actively following Direct Cinema anymore, after I proclaimed the blog to be back last year, and subsequently managed a grand total of two posts. But I'm stubborn, and I've decided that my annual October tradition of "31 Days of Horror," is a great reason/excuse to start posting once again and get this blog up and running once more. This entire month, I'll be watching (or trying to watch) a horror film every single day, culminating in a marathon on Halloween night. I try to select a healthy mix of horror films from different eras and sub-genres, and usually throw in a few I've already seen for good measure. Because of time constraints, a lot of the posts probably won't be full pieces but rather brief thoughts/impressions, or even just a way to keep track of the films I'm watching, but some posts will be lengthier... I just can't promise which ones or when. The goal now is to just get the ball rolling, and in due time, get this blog back on it's feet. If anyone out there is still reading, I sincerely encourage you to follow along, get the most out of your October, and try to watch as much horror as you can. Enjoy!

Brief Impressions: The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3 (Scott, 2009)

Days before the release of Tony Scott's The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3, I came across a handful of early reviews touting this third adaptation of John Godey's 1973 crime novel as being the best and most satisfying of the lot. As a great admirer of Joseph Sargent's 1974 adaptation, an underrated and under seen gem (and seminal "New York City" film), I struggled to understand how this could be possible, but nevertheless, my interest was piqued.

Having seen Scott's film, my immediate reaction is this: Anyone who champions this film as superior to Sargent's is immediately calling into question their cinematic taste. That is not to say this latest rendition of Pelham is a terrible film. Though Scott once again gives in to his typical directorial excess where a workmanlike, direct style would be more appropriate (see Sargent's film), he benefits from committed performances and a script from Brian Helgeland that adds some interesting depth to the main characters. But Scott's film isn't the portrait of a city and its inhabitants that Sargent's film was, and grit and personality are sacrificed at the altar of empty style. The end result: A solid, though unremarkable, surface-level thriller. And the last time I checked, the gap between unremarkable and classic was a fairly wide one.

A Random Thought: The 36th Chamber of Shaolin

It fascinates me how movies of this particular genus are simultaneously crude - rough, unpolished, simple - dramatically (i.e. in terms of performance, narrative, thematics), and absolutely sophisticated in terms of technique. It goes without saying that the fight choreography is first rate, but what really caught me off guard was the cinematography, particularly the way director Chia-Liang Liu and dp Yeh-tai Huang move the camera around the action. There is a brutal, fluid elegance to the camerawork. The raw kineticism of the fights is breathtaking. The camera covers the carnage at intelligible distances for long stretches at a time, and Liu knows exactly when to cut. Over 30 years later, it's a wonder that the modern action film still hasn't learned.

Direct Cinema is back online... Again!

It's hard to believe that it has been over an entire year (15 months to be exact!) since my last blog post. It seems like only yesterday that I even decided to start up a film blog. In the interim, my life has drastically changed for sure, and really, the main reason why I stopped posting was simply because I didn't have the time or the inclination. But enough of that. The purpose of this blog is and always will be film, pure and simple, and now that I have settled into my new environs, my 'hankering' if you will, for blogging, has returned, along with another necessary component - time. So if the three of you who used to read this blog (excluding family) still do, thank you. The posts will probably start small and build up as I get back into the groove. As before, I encourage you all to post responses. After all, I started this blog as a means for sharing my passion for the cinema and generating intelligent discussions about it. But enough rambling... For the second third time, welcome to Direct Cinema. Enjoy!

-R.A. Naing

Sophie Scholl: The Final Days (Rothemund, 2005)

Sophie Scholl: The Final Days belongs with the class of refined, pedigreed historical cinema that Europe seems to churn out to such a degree that it has become a "brand" of sorts here in the United States, patronized by art-house theaters from coast to coast. And though it attempts nothing radical within the confines of this particular type of film, it is nevertheless a potent, artful achievement. Culled from testimonies and long-buried historical documents, it is an examination of the last six days in the life of the German anti-Nazi heroine. And though the action (in this case not quite the appropriate word) is confined mostly to a handful of rooms and a couple of characters, it is a gripping example of cinema as historical document, as well as a showcase for a handful of fantastic, carefully calibrated performances (especially Julia Jentsch, who plays Sophie). Rothemund has crafted a work of powerful restraint that manages to be staid and verbose without ever being tedious, a work that derives considerable emotional momentum not from moments of unbridled fury, but from moments of quiet control. IMDb listing.

The Ten Best Films Of 2007

1.   There Will Be Blood (Paul Thomas Anderson, United States)
2.   The Assassination Of Jesse James By The Coward Robert Ford (Andrew Dominik, United States)
3.   No Country For Old Men (Ethan Coen & Joel Coen, United States)
4.   Silent Light (Carlos Reygadas, Mexico/France/Netherlands/Germany)
5.   I'm Not There (Todd Haynes, United States/Germany)
6.   Zodiac (David Fincher, United States)
7.   The Diving Bell And The Butterfly (Julian Schnabel, France/United States)
8.   Into The Wild (Sean Penn, United States)
9.   Paranoid Park (Gus Van Sant, United States/France)
10. The Man From London (Béla Tarr, Hungary/France/Germany)

The Molly Maguires (Ritt, 1970)

Ritt's bleak portrait of working class immigrants chasing liberty and the American dream belongs to the golden age of American cinema that began with Bonnie & Clyde, and is far more intelligent and artfully crafted than it is given credit for. James Wong Howe's incredible scope photography of the coal mines and Tambi Larsen & Darrell Silvera's Oscar nominated art direction lend the film a sooty authenticity, and the wordless nearly 15-minute long opening sequence immediately calls to mind P.T. Anderson's There Will Be Blood. As in his best work, Ritt doesn't allow his fondness for tackling social problems to overpower the narrative. A film in serious need of critical reappraisal. IMDb listing.

Killer's Kiss (Kubrick, 1955)

Stanley Kubrick's lean B noir, only his second feature length film, provides a revealing glimpse of his emerging personal style. And though Killer's Kiss is a relatively simple exercise, running a trim 67 minutes, it is fascinating how Kubrick chooses to tell this pulpy story of l'amour fou with images rather than dialogue. The final chase sequence is a thing of beauty.

Flash Point (Yip, 2007)

The cinema of Hong Kong has always been defined primarily (at least in an international sense) in terms of its action films. From the martial arts films of the Shaw Brothers in the 60’s and 70’s (Come Drink With Me, Five Deadly Venoms), to the pioneering work of Jackie Chan (Police Story) and John Woo (Hard Boiled) in the 80’s and 90’s (to name but a few, the list could go on and on…), Hong Kong has often been at the vanguard of action cinema, constantly innovating and redefining the look and feel of the genre and just as constantly being imitated.

With Flash Point, director Wilson Yip and star/fight choreographer Donnie Yen once again attempt to push the action genre to more extreme heights, though the results are quite mixed. From a narrative standpoint, the film is rather perfunctory. Taking place in 1996, just before the return of Hong Kong to Chinese rule, it deals with the efforts of a police operation, headed by Yen’s Inspector Ma, to take down a Vietnamese crime family. All of the requisite beats one would expect from such a plot are present. And though Yip broaches the interesting theme of “returning home” – many characters comment on their migrant status – it isn’t developed beyond a superficial level. Anyone even remotely acquainted with Hong Kong policiers will find themselves on familiar ground.

Given this, it would be quite understandable to dismiss Yip and Yen’s film as yet another formulaic entry from a stagnating contemporary Hong Kong film industry, though such an assessment wouldn’t be completely fair. Yes, the plot is hackneyed, the acting is exaggerated, and the dialogue is mechanical and sometimes nonsensical (though I assume something was lost in translation), but to judge this film predominantly on these elements would be to miss the point almost entirely. For though it grinds to a halt in its quieter moments, Flash Point positively explodes during its louder ones, especially when Yen is in the spotlight.

At its core, Flash Point is an outlet for Donnie Yen’s continuing obsession with MMA (mixed martial arts), something he utilized to great effect in his first collaboration with Yip, Sha Po Lang. This particular approach (which blends styles as diverse as Muay Thai and submission grappling) would seem to be a direct reaction to the graceful bloodletting of Woo’s The Killer, or the wire-fu spectacles Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Hero. The action feels organic, the fights gritty, brutal, and unpredictable. Every punch is felt. In the current homogeneous action film landscape, Yip and Yen have created something fierce and angry, something that feels like the logical next step.

There is far too much banality in Flash Point for it to be considered a complete success, yet for all of its shortcomings, it still succeeds as a pure adrenaline rush. This is the action film as performance art, pushed to an almost abstract level, where the emphasis is on the technical beauty of the action, regardless of plot and characterization, and pleasure is derived from the sounds of bones crunching, and above all else the athletic prowess on display.

Direct Cinema Is Back!

...not that it was ever really gone, but... you get my point.

Hello to all of my readers. I realize that it has been quite a while since I last updated my blog, and longer since I last updated it regularly, and trust me, it wasn't without reason. I have been quite busy with other things for the past couple of months, but I just wanted to let all of you who have been reading know how much I appreciate your support, and also how much I love running this blog. Film is something I wake up for in the morning. It is something I breathe, something I bleed. And I wanted to use this post to state that starting today, Direct Cinema will return to being a regularly updated blog.

I just finished folding the reviews I did for last year's 1st annual "Shocktober Horrorfest" into my regular review directory, so there won't be a Shocktober sidebar anymore. Anyone looking for those reviews, you can find them all under the general "reviews" sidebar. October '07 is past and I felt I needed to do some cleaning and maintenance of the blog so, that's that.

Anyways, all of the old columns (The Trailer Compendium, the Best of Lists) will be back, along with film news and of course my reviews, and I have some ideas for a couple of new weekly/monthly columns. I'm aiming to have my Best Of list for 2007 up before the Oscars. I hope that you all continue to check out Direct Cinema, and again, please leave comments! I love reading them and having critical discussions about the film's I highlight is one of the reasons that I do this, so don't be shy. Also, if you enjoy the blog, spread the word!

-R.A. Naing

Bob le Flambeur (Melville, 1956)

A quiet fatalism runs throughout Bob le Flambeur, slowly revealing itself in the rain slicked streets, the nightly routine of boozing and gambling, the overcast dawns, and especially Bob Montagné's face, his furrowed brow, muscles constantly contracted, always staring down. The rain, try as it might, can't seem to wash away the sins of the many who roam Paris by night, and fate, no matter how much one might try, cannot be altered. And so Bob goes about, losing his money, over and over again.

An undeniable stylistic precursor to the Nouvelle Vague, Melville's film is the type that will always seem modern and fresh, no matter how many decades pass. There is a languid vitality to the film that is impossible to do justice to through words alone. This is a film that must be seen.

Juno (Reitman, 2007)

This year's Little Miss Sunshine. That seems to be the label of choice for all of the award season pundits when discussing Juno. And though the comparisons are apt to a certain degree (this sort of hip, colorful, American indie filmmaking has become a genre unto itself) Juno does a remarkable job of toeing the line. On occasion, it comes close, but director Jason Reitman and writer Diablo Cody never quite allow the film to implode into the realm of cloying quirkiness. Juno's cheekiness may be annoying at times, but it feels quite true to her emotional and physical maturity. Ellen Page is sure to be the beneficiary of much praise, but the performance to savor is J.K. Simmons, who imbues his role as Juno's father with humor and a wonderfully confused but unwavering love. Certainly not the year's best, but funnier, if quite a bit lighter, than last year's indie sensation.

Charlie Wilson's War (Nichols, 2007)

Charlie Wilson's War is a product that looks like an Oscar contender, smells like and Oscar contender, and has the pedigree of an Oscar contender, but once finally revealed, is nothing more than nicely polished fluff. Let me clarify that in no way do I abhor Mike Nichols' film. It's just that any talk of this film as one of the year's best is quite baffling to me. There is certainly much to enjoy. Yet, there is something about Nichols' film, its inherent simplicity, the pandering nature of the entire exercise, that I can't quite get past.

This is pop history, nothing more, nothing less. A simplistic exploration of a complex period of recent US history that nevertheless feels strangely pretend. Too refined to be considered proper farce, the film also lacks the subversiveness and vitriolic energy that the best satire requires. And Nichols' filmmaking, while polished and professional, feels strangely hollow. Gone is his feel for the contours of human behavior, and the vitality, that marked much of his early work. So while Sorkin's script crackles and pops in all the right places (done exceptional service by Hoffman's perfectly mannered and hilarious turn as CIA man Gust Avrakotos), it does so in the service of nothing particularly meaningful. Unless of course, you are the type who would confuse lazy, obvious, finger-pointing, for something clever and meaningful.

In the end, when the entire aftermath of Wilson's clandestine campaign is reduced to a single minutes long scene in a conference room (and capped by a punchline quote), it becomes clear what Nichols' real intentions are. Charlie Wilson's War is a breezy comedy that one can enjoy for a brisk 97 minutes and forget nearly as quickly. For truly inspired satire, check out Nichols' Catch-22 instead.

Gabrielle (Chéreau, 2005)

In Joseph Conrad's short story The Return (of which the author himself remarked "I hate it"), Patrice Cheréau finds the basis for this potent chamber drama, an outwardly staid, inwardly powerful tale of marital strife. There is much to savor here; in the note perfect performances of Huppert as the titular Gabrielle, and especially Pascal Greggory as the confused cuckold; in Cheréau's carefully stylized direction; in Eric Gautier's stunningly polished images; in a score by Fabio Vacchi that manages to be both melodramatic and elegant. On top of all of these things, Gabrielle also manages to illuminate the communicative space between cinema and the theater. Cheréau's film is a masterpiece in a minor key.

The Adventures Of Baron Munchausen (Gilliam, 1988)

Terry Gilliam's fantastically baroque visual sense and his childlike playfulness are on full display in this oft overlooked film, a surprisingly potent examination of the creative soul and its place in an exceedingly rational world. It is rather unfortunate that a regime change at Columbia Pictures, the film's backer and distributor, and the ensuing behind the scenes power struggles, kept this film from reaching a larger audience and the acclaim it most certainly deserves. One of Gilliam's finest. IMDb listing.