River's Edge

It's becoming exhaustive, and it's been a stream of really bad movies lately. Here's another one though: RIVER'S EDGE, a sort of anti-80's era film about teenagers. I admire the attempt at the very least: trying to counter the ridiculous lies of John Hughes films that minimize and degrade the teenage years to a series of rebellions against the obvious. But in RIVER'S EDGE, everyone's a real son of a bitch. The film opens to a young kid riding on his bike, stopping on a bridge and seeing an older boy sit next to a corpse. The corpse is that of his girlfriend's, distastefully stripped nude and laid against the grassy shore. The kid steals a beer for the older boy, and it soon becomes common knowledge that Samson has killed his girlfriend. He brags about it at school and shows the body to his friends, and they all have different reactions to it. Stealing the film is the wonderfully weird Layne (Crispin Glover) who defends Samson on the basis that he's still alive and perhaps they can assist him. Less sure however, is Matt (Keanu Reaves) who teams up with a young Ione Skye in questioning something that should be obvious. There's even a subplot with the kid from the beginning, a pot-smoking ten year old who tries to steal a gun from Dennis Hopper's Feck, a past killer himself. What becomes overwhelming though, is the attempt to make everything so down and out, so that it actually becomes unbelievable. There are some really attractive scenes here and there, but they all mesh together to make nothing shocking, and just all offensive. Sure John Hughes' films are bad and irresponsibly pretending to be the heartbeat of a generation, but this kind of film is the other extreme: one that chocks up to an elderly cry of "kids today" that's mired in fear and misunderstanding. This film portrays every teenager as a criminal, and its just as inaccurate and harming.

★ out of Five

The Fly

I've seen THE FLY three times now, each and every time wanting to like it, and each and every time finding it to be a complete failure. I love Cronenberg, but every once in a while I think he gives too much credence to one of his subjects. This was true of his MADAME BUTTERFLY, where Cronenberg let the man in drag eat up every scene, letting him linger under the camera for so long that it became uncomfortable. I think he's created a similar monster here. In THE FLY, an antisocial scientist named Seth Brundle has created a teleportation machine. He shows it off to a reporter named Veronica (Geena Davis) at a party, and as he becomes more obsessed with his work, she becomes his accomplice in a shady scientific venture. The original, and great, 50's version was about how some men who seem normal hide their secrets in their houses, but Cronenberg's film is about a man whose life is consumed by these secrets, and how he could never be meant to have a real life, or a real relationship. The 50's version has evil consume a family, but in Cronenberg's version, only Seth Brundle in consumed. I think this is what makes it so much less dramatic, and sort of obvious, as Seth Brundle makes a grave miscalculation and teleports himself after a fly flew into the device with him. After becoming spliced with the fly, Cronenberg sort of lets go of the film, and lets the makeup department take over. Everything becomes obvious, and we know what will eventually happen to Brundle.

★★ out of Five

Parents

It's obvious from the general look of Bob Ballaban's PARENTS that the 50's are trying to be emulated as much as possible. What instead incurs, due to an art direction, and directorial decision making that inputs queasy music to queasy shots of oily faces, is a bilious experience. Then again, how could nausea not be induced when you're making a film about cannibalism? For, you see, the 'parents' of the red splatter title lettering are cannibals, and induce constant fear into their wide-eyed, disappointed looking son, Michael. Michael begins to suspect his parents of doing weird things at night, for when he wakes up in the morning they have monster-sized slices of simmering meat on plates in front of him. This teasing with the horror genre begins in such odd ways though, and the film doesn't feel well thought out. Why, only now, at age ten does Michael suspect his parents? Wouldn't such activity in the house just be normality for him? Furthermore, Michael's fear of his parents for such a long time seems irrational and out of place. It's as if his real parents have died and these are the insane aunt and uncle guardians. And god, the look of this is horrid. The oily faces just drown the film in a languorousness that seems to reflect how little its events matter. I hated this film from the very first shot to the premise to the actors. I was nauseated, bored, annoyed, and confused.

★ out of Five

The Keep

It's difficult for me to say so, but I didn't like THE KEEP very much at all. It's about a citadel called The Keep protected by a couple of Jewish priests in the 1940's. One day, they're invaded by the Nazis, who stay over night against the warnings of the townspeople, release a demon, and reap the consequences while blaming the Jews for Nazi-soldier deaths. In terms of imagery, THE KEEP is fantastic. And, what else would you expect from Michael Mann? But in terms of story, THE KEEP feels incomplete and brisk. There's some imagery and even some of Mann's ideas that I love here, but the film itself just falls apart in so many different ways. There's even a theme, or a character, that I adore, a stranger coming out of the town mist with eyes that light up to a white nothingness.

It feels Lynchian, and perhaps that's because it is, but whenever Mann throws us a bone like two shadows coming out of a cave of nothingness, the stranger, or the town enveloped in mist and bodies, he fucks it up with a scene that's too long or doesn't make any sense. Vagueness used as a tool should rub anybody the wrong way. The only redeeming factor I can come up with for the film, one that makes me want to write a review just focusing on the fantastic imagery, is that apparently a Director's Cut lies hidden in the depths of Hollywood. That could be great, for there's so much greatness here that just begs to be released, but stays buried like the demon in the Keep.

★★ out of Five

Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer

Despite much of the talk that has been made about HENRY: PORTRAIT OF A SERIAL KILLER, it is no horror film in the conventional sense of that terminology. It's too slow, too biliously building to be that kind of abrupt horror. Rather, HENRY fits into a disturbing group of cinematic quasi-breakthrough. Released Unrated in the 80's in order to avoid an NC-17 rating, HENRY tells the sickening tale of a tall, stoic drifter named Henry (Michael Rooker). He lives in an apartment with a drug dealer just out of jail named Otis. Henry kills people, he's a serial killer, but no enigmatic, hammy type like Hannibal Lecter. Instead, Henry is cold and gross. We see his mangled victims, each killed in different ways to keep the cops off his trail, and the camera pans in on their empty eyes, their screams acting as background music. One day, Otis' sister Becky comes into town. She begins to live with Henry and Otis, and takes a great liking to Henry. She's a damaged person though in the greatest sense of that elusive phrase. Molested as a child, Otis has the same tendencies as their deranged father, and Becky's in danger. Henry and Otis start killing people together, and Becky stands on the sidelines in some sick admiration and some ignorance. What is ultimately devastating about HENRY though is the coldness of its subject, and the relentless sickening scenes after sickening scenes. There's not even a style to the kills, but an ugly abruptness followed by quasi-methodical ritual. As what it purports itself to be, a 'Portrait of a Serial Killer' HENRY is a good film, but just that. For reasons I cannot pin down, its detachment, and the general pathetic-ness makes the film appear as disaster porn. Still, however, worth seeing.
Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer: ★★★

An American Werewolf in London

It's too bad that AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON kills off its most likable character early on, too bad that it features a great performance out of Jenny Agutter as a nurse, too bad that the makeup on display is excellent, too bad that the ending is a brilliant change, when the film as a whole is a stupid, cynical mess. David (David Naughton) and Jack (Griffin Dunne) are young Americans making their way across Europe. They're funny young men, especially Jack, and they sadly find themselves in an unfriendly town that looks like it came out of the 1800's. The townspeople are unhelpful curmudgeons, and the boys leave town for the dreaded moors. They begin to hear the cry of a wolf, and they both flee while making funny one-liners. Jack is torn apart and brutally killed, while David lives, their attacker is shot, and David ends up in London under the care of a beautiful nurse. Exposed in the title, David is now a werewolf, bitten by the last one alive, and apparently forcing Jack to walk the Earth as a undead because he is the last werewolf. Jack pleads with David to take his own life, thus setting them both free to heaven, but David resists. Turns out, David brutally kills a lot of people on his own, and the idiot decision creates a cynical void in the middle of the film, populated on its edges by bad editing, poor storytelling, and a weakly supported main character. Then that's it, and we know how the film ends. Very bad.
An American Werewolf in London: ★1/2

Koyaanisqatsi

Koyaanisqatsi: Life Out of Balance

Best watched impaired.

Great visuals.

Great music. (Philip Glass).

Great message.

Koyaanisqatsi: ★★★

Videodrome

VIDEODROME is a film that centers itself around our obsession with television. By use of the videotape, box tv, and topical censorship issues, one could easily imagine a film like VIDEODROME being outdated. Videodrome itself is a tv signal sent out from Pittsburgh. It contains 'shows' which exhibit extremely realistic torture porn, bloody sex, and sadomasochism. Intrigued by videodrome is the President of a controversial station: one that shows soft-core porn and open (staged) exhibitions of violence. His name is Max (James Woods), a sleazy but controlled supporter of this kind of entertainment. Appearing on talk shows with odd characters whose beliefs are contrary to his own, Max's charisma allows him to coast cleanly on the staple of his self-control. Two of these odd tv personalities are 1) Dr. O'Blivion (a man who refuses to appear unless he's on a television (even on television)) and 2) Nicki Brand (Deborah Harry aka Blondie). Max starts up a relationship with Nicki, who appears to like sex when needles are involved. This is a sexy obsession for Max, who is intrigued by the underbelly of what his station exhibits / symbolizes. After discovering videodrome, however, he begins to have odd hallucinations, and is dragged slowly into the world of the creators of videodrome. This is no obsession with videotape or tv, however, it is an obsession with the medium: the act of appearing on television: the act of appearing to be important. Director David Cronenberg's film is much like his later film, eXistenZ, or even the great CRASH. VIDEODROME is about the obsessions these people have with a certain medium and how it affects the rest of their lives. Sex with needles, appearing only on televison, etc. Modern.
Videodrome: ★★★

Dead Ringers

Gynecological Instruments Above

Should the creepiness of a film like DEAD RINGERS deter anyone from seeing it? Does the fact that it is applicable to a small percentage of us in story no meaningless than the very point it tries to make? Like all of David Cronenberg's films, DEAD RINGERS is surely not for the faint of heart or the timid in spirit, but for those who can sit through it, the intelligence within the artistic delivery is clear.
Jeremy Irons, in 1988 special effects photography, plays twin gynecologists Beverly and Elliot. Both men are successful, and both men are very close to one another. In fact, Elliot, the dominant twin, has for years allowed the weaker Beverly to fulfill his sexual / physical desires by doubling himself to unbeknownst women. Also, it seems, the twins split certain responsibilities and tasks by flip of a coin logic. In the same fashion, the men are accoladed by the medical society. This is a balance that works for the twins, and their matter-of-fact approach to it adds to the enigmatic allure.
However, the arrival of an actress named Claire (Genevieve Bujold) shakes things up. Claire, who sought out the twins for their medical expertise, turns out to have three separate cervixes: which prevents her from having children. She begins an affair with Beverly, but it turns out to have been Elliot, and then it turns out to be Beverly (or Elliot?). Claire is horrified at her discovery that the men double each other for sexual purposes, but quickly comes back to the real Beverly who seems to actually be pining for the actress. However, this is a secondary desire: one that exists underneath the realization of an independent Beverly who isn't in need of his twin. This independence shoots Beverly into a drug craze, and this likewise shoots the previously dominant Elliot into a similar madness.
What is to admire here besides sheer filmmaking is Cronenberg's vision of similar selves. Beverly and Elliot, the twins, could just as well have been one conflicted person (consider the decision to make them be played by a singular actor). Furthermore, it is the fact that the film is based on the lives of real twin gynecologists Stewart and Cyril Marcus that make the film more intriguing. Cronenberg is obsessed with a fractured self. Here, with DEAD RINGERS, he has created an oblique vision of this idea. Although I admired the film a great deal, I still see A HISTORY OF VIOLENCE, EASTERN PROMISES, and CRASH as better films. Still great.
Dead Ringers: ★★★1/2

Christine

[Note: August brought with it more work and trenchant obsession, apologies...]

High School

In the opening scenes of John Carpenter's CHRISTINE, which is easily described as a movie about a killer car, I was deeply affected by Carpenter's affections within the film. Surprisingly, the sympathetic hero at the film's opening is Arnie Cunningham (Keith Gordon). He wears glasses, and seems to be an obvious mild-mannered nerd. He has a protector though, a large football player by the name of Dennis (John Stockwell). The chemistry Carpenter creates between Arnie and Dennis is impeccable. Not only is the relationship believable, but there isn't any pity in either friend, but respect. Arnie is consistently tormented by a crude trio of toughs who pull knifes and play dirty, but Dennis sticks up for him just as consistently. One day coming home from school however, Arnie stops Dennis mid-road to check out an old clunker sitting in a backyard. It's a '58 Plymouth named Christine, and Arnie becomes obsessed with it: buying it for more than its worth, and spending all of his days fixing the car up to be a perfect beauty. He becomes so entrenched in his work, that he even forgets about dear-friend Dennis, and this causes a strange allegiance change mid-film as it becomes clear that Arnie is descending into madness. Christine is pure evil. It is a force that pulls Arnie in and refuses to release him, melding its own crookedness with his vulnerability, running enemies down, and expressed as otherworldly through lens flares and perfectly used special effects. Carpenter's direction here is the best of his career. Dennis and Arnie are great film characters, and their surrounding environment thought up by Carpenter is cruel and reflective of the evils of Christine. This is a great American film showcasing the best of horror and the best of the high-school setting.

Christine: ★★★★

The Fog

Pirate Ghosts

True to his nature, John Carpenter's THE FOG starts wonderfully: setting up an array of characters, lore, small towns, and a few beautiful women. Jamie Lee Curtis plays one of these women: in this film a quasi-scream queen who parades about the town while trying to uncover the mystery of a few dead men on a boat in the marina. A mysterious fog had enveloped them moments before their deaths, and it just so happened to envelop them right at midnight on the 100th anniversary of the founding of the small town. A priest, played by Hal Holbrook, level headed-ly uncovers the truth early on in the film, and although Curtis' character is ignorant of this truth, we the audience are aware early on. The priest, at midnight, discovered an old journal of his grandfathers in the church walls. Reading it, he discovered that his grandfather and five other men conspired to trick a crew of sailors to their deaths in order to steal their hidden gold. It is stressed that men were sailors with hidden gold. That, however, sounds a lot like pirates. The fog that eerily glows and stretches over the town is a vessel for the dead sailors (pirates) to attack the townspeople for revenge. Apart from this being a film about pirate ghosts, which is silly enough, the fact that the pirate ghosts kill people who weren't even related to the conspirators is all the more ridiculous. As Curtis and her counterparts flee the fog, a party celebrating the anniversary is occurring in the main part of town, but the people attending it never seem to be in any danger. No, the people celebrating the deaths of the sailors because it resulted in the creation of the town are never harmed, instead, Curtis (who is a drifter) is in harm's way. THE FOG is no fun, and eventually becomes grading. It's weak.
The Fog: ★★

Kiki's Delivery Service

Playfulness

All too often, Hayao Miyazaki's films near greatness, but don't attain it. He is either restrainedly creative (which is disappointing like in MY NEIGHBOR TOTORO), or arrogantly idealistic (see HOWL'S MOVING CASTLE). In his early 00's film, SPIRITED AWAY, I found my Miyazaki match of unrestrained creativity and dark silliness. But here, with KIKI'S DELIVERY SERVICE, Miyazaki has crafted a masterpiece. The film tells of an world that can only be described as an alternate one. There, witches exist in small towns, inhabiting them and providing small public services. They act in olden ways, sending their small daughters off at 13 to learn to be witches. Kiki (Kirsten Dunst), the daughter of a potion-making witch, leaves home with her black cat Jiji (Phil Hartman) and tries to find a home by the ocean. Miyazaki delivers some entertaining sequences centering around Kiki's plight. These are lighthearted and essentially tame sequences, but they contain some tension that TOTORO especially lacked. This tension works perfectly as a statement on city life and importance within it. KIKI'S DELIVERY SERVICE is especially good at creating this world, and his obligatory creative characters just help to make the film episodically enjoyable.
Kiki's Delivery Service: ★★★1/2

My Neighbor Totoro

MY NEIGHBOR TOTORO is one of the most beloved family films. Its creatures alone are iconic and beloved. It comes from Hayao Miyazaki, a great animator / director who has made many a great film. SPIRITED AWAY stands as his best in my opinion, for it fully flaunts its mythological, spirit premise, and is visually layered. MY NEIGHBOR TOTORO however, is subtle in its visual spectacle. It briefly shows its creatures, and creates an anxiety around them. In the film, two kids, 4 and 10, move to a new house in the country with their dad to be closer to the hospital their mother is in. The first time they enter the house, strange black soot sprites scurry about, and please the two girls (voiced by Elle and Dakota Fanning) rather than scare them. They both want to see these creatures, as they stand more as cherished guardians than creepy ghosts. There isn't much actual tension in the film, and its amazing how slowly it takes for the actual plot to develop. Miyazaki instead emphasizes the tone in his film, building an array of family truisms, country bumpkinism parading as wiseness, and fantastical imagery. The wonder of MY NEIGHBOR TOTORO also undermines it, because the spectacles are so brief that we, the audience, want so much more of this. In his other films, like SPIRITED AWAY for example, the creativity just flows and continually surprises. I understand the point of the brevity in MY NEIGHBOR TOTORO, but it feels rather minor, if not surprisingly an entertainment for the restless.
My Neighbor Totoro: ★★★1/2

Hannah and Her Sisters

Various crises abound in Woody Allen's 1986 film, his highest grossing one ever (although MIDNIGHT AND PARIS might change that this year). The film has various plots to support the various crises, but everything comes back to one character (whichever one you define that role to). One story develops into another, and then turns around and comes back to the other. Hannah, from the title, is played by Mia Farrow. She's a good wife, with many children, an intelligent husband, Elliot (Michael Caine), an amiable ex (Woody Allen), and two sisters. Trouble is afoot however, when at Thanksgiving dinner, Elliot discovers that he's in love with Hannah's sister Lee (Barbara Hershey). 'It's a delicate situation', Elliot often muses, but he never handles the situation the way his mind tells him to. Meanwhile, Allen's character Mickey Sachs fears he has a brain tumor, remembers his marriage to Hannah, and even a disastrous date with her other sister, Holly (Dianne Wiest). His near-death encounter makes him think about god, and most of the humor comes from his story, and its intertwined logic with the others. Max von Sydow even shows up in the film to solidify Allen's desire to imitate Ingmar Bergman, and he plays a pretentious boyfriend to Lee. This may seem like a melodramatic setup, but it creates a wonderful catharses at the end. Allen evokes the images of place, and fleeting moments, and even fleeting people: how we interact with different people at different times and the nuances of those relationships. Like his great CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS, the film is ultimately sad & hopeful. I think it's one of his best films: never ostentatious, but slowly revealing.
Hannah and Her Sisters: ★★★★

They Live

A drifter referred to as "Nada" because he has no other name comes into town. He first applies for a job at a bank, telling the teller how the bank's back home all conked out, but this seems like a joke because next he settles into life as a bum: taking shoddy work at construction sites, eating his meals at homeless shelters and living in a shantytown across the street from a church. Perhaps just because he's bored, he looks across the street at the eerie church and notices a black, blind preacher mouthing verbatim the same words as a loon on the tv. He investigates, but is rushed out when a team of police aggressively attack the church, taking the preacher with them. Soon afterwards, Nada discovers a box of sunglasses that were stashed in the church, puts them on, and a strange world is revealed to him. Signs and magazines say simple things like CONFORM or WATCH TV in the place of their original texts, people mingled across town are revealed to be aliens. Nada essentially discovers a controlled world: an Orwellian society with planted individuals to break down society. The film was directed by John Carpenter. His direction is perfect for this frivolous but fun film, treating the events with serious tones. His fight scenes are well choreographed and allow for the audience to forget whatever political statements he's trying to make. His witticisms work in the same manner, and although they detract from the political points, it's okay because  those political points aren't really worthy of the fun direction. The same political undertones of George A. Romero's films work because they're so understated, and not overwhelmingly obvious as they are in THEY LIVE. Still, this is a fine science fiction film, with great direction from Carpenter and none of the depressing hopelessness of Romero, which often undermines his work.
They Live: ★★★1/2

Castle in the Sky

Inventive and original as any Miyazaki film, one of his first features from the 80's, CASTLE IN THE SKY also contains many lesser known, or less frequently addressed trademarks of the master animator. The film begins with a sky battle between pirates and mysterious men in suits who always wear sunglasses and contain the same enigmatic nature as men in black. The battle is in the air, and the pirates embark from their buzzard-like ship into insect-like personal ships, attacking the massive one of the men in suits. There's a struggle, and it becomes clear that the pirates are after a young girl on the ship, and specifically, a blue necklace she's wearing. In the confusion, she falls, plummeting to the earth. We are sure she'll die, but her necklace gives off a wonderful light, and floats her safely to the earth below, where she meets the other protagonist, a young miner named Pazu. Pazu and the girl (whose name is Sheeta, and voiced by a young Anna Paquin) become close, but they're relationship flourishes quickly, even as they have to quickly go on the run from the pirates, and the devious men from earlier. Pazu and Sheeta discover that the necklace is magical (presumably from how it allowed Sheeta to float to the ground), and that it probably came from a magical, legendary city that floats in the sky named Laputa. From that point, the story becomes a search for the magical city. There's a lot of heartwarming, balanced fun with Sheeta and Pazu, and then, as is ubiquitous in Miyazaki's work, the original "bad guys", the pirates, become the good pals of Sheeta and Pazu. This transformation is unwieldy, however, for in later Miyazaki films the buried evils of the enemies become friends is constantly addressed and present. Also a trademark of Miyazaki's work, and handled in a shoddy way here, is the "good message" that has become so important to even Pixar (as was overbearing in their WALL-E). Here, there is an environmental parable that seems to even supersede the lives of many of the government officials who show up. Eventually, it becomes condescending and ultimately preachy. It does not completely overtake the film's decency, but it just solidifies that it is just that: a decent film, and not must else.
Castle in the Sky: ★★★

This Is Spinal Tap

Where the acclaim for the mockumentary (self-deemed "rockumentary") film THIS IS SPINAL TAP came from, I don't know. Perhaps the film is too topical to be very funny anymore. I'm sure that the hair, pants and other attire of the fake rock n' roll band Spinal Tap was quite appealing to people during the time of those thing's popularity. But frankly, that type of person doesn't exist anymore, and isn't part of the modern American pantheon of culture. The cowboy doesn't exist anymore, but it's still a present figure in our minds, the American rocker however, seems less present, and more nostalgic than anything else. THIS IS SPINAL TAP parades itself as a documentary by a foolish young director (played by Rob Reiner, who actually directed) who heard the band Spinal Tap once, and decided to make a movie about them. This is all supposed to be quite funny as we follow the obviously crappy rock band around on their tour. But they seem to have gotten lucky a long time ago, and that luck has run out, except that the band still sees themselves as defining or important. The film then proceeds to essentially make fun of these fake people. It looks down upon them as they go from a few thousand showing up at their shows to playing at puppet shows. It gets quite boring, as the film gets extremely repetitive and although seeing some of the actors in wigs and fake mustaches was appealing at first, that novelty grows old. Most of the jokes that do work only work because they could have worked in a different setting. The fake band Spinal Tap grows annoying and pathetic. For a music lover, it feels like a waste of time to care about a group of people who think they're the best and play terrible music. Added to that, these people don't even exist, so there isn't any underlaying truth to what's going on; as there usually is that element in real documentaries. If the film is supposed to be funny because it satirizes that period's rock and roll stars well, it doesn't do anything else very well. It isn't funny without knowledge or misplaced affection for that time, it's poorly shot, and its not even as funny as later, more universal mockumentaries. Watching this film was like being with someone getting drunk for the first time: acting how they think drunk people should, or must act. The same is true of these "rockers", spewing quasi-philisophical trash and then repurposing it as funny. Even if it is "authentic", then isn't that just annoying? We are already aware that, say, Paris Hilton is a ditz, so why would anyone want to make a movie about her and imitate her. It's like seeing a shoddy imitation of the real thing. Consider BEST IN SHOW, which is a universally entertaining and funny film to see rather than this overrated mockumentary.
This Is Spinal Tap: ★1/2

Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown

WOMEN ON THE VERGE OF A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN is a good film. It's a farce, and it's a lot more appealing/charming than most of director Pedro Almodóvar's other films. Those films try to convince us of certain facts, and bring attention to themselves in strange ways like lingering on cleavage to say that women have rights or a ubiquity of whores and transvestites. WOMEN ON THE VERGE OF A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN is only concerned with its silly story, and a buried feeling of superstition. It's funny in ways that are held out for long moments, and it is as wonderfully colored as all of the Almodóvar films. In WOMEN ON THE VERGE OF A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN, the director introduces a cast of characters who all have strange occupations, like voice dubbing, and do strange things, like dating shiite terrorists. As the film progresses, the lead, is dumped by her boyfriend Iván, and she wallows in gazpatcho and her apartment. When she has friends over, however, she learns of a plot to kill Iván and rushes to his rescue as best she can. This is all pretty funny, well shot, and cleanly acted. The only problem with the film lies in its gestures that are obviously bringing importance or self-awareness that the film doesn't require to the forefront. For example, when our lead feels that her life is in the dumps, she burns part of her apartment. There are smaller gestures like this throughout, and that drags the film down, along with it being perhaps too farfetched.
Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown: ★★★

Blow Out

BLOW OUT is a tale of murder, conspiracy, and moviemaking. These three subjects are so overused in films, and yet in this one, it seems fresh and appropriate. The film opens with a campy and shady horror movie set-up: there's talk of a possible stranger outside, and then as a shrouded figure enters the house in the spectral way that all killers in horror films do, he floats to the showers, pulls up a knife, pulls back the shower curtain and a ridiculous and feeble scream comes out of his victim. The film is cut back, and we see a group of filmmakers working on their film and worrying about the feeble scream. The filmmakers send the hero (played by John Travolta) to find a new and better scream because they got the girl in the movie "for her tits not her voice". Travolta is a soundman, and as he's out recording leaves rustling for the film, he witness a car's tire blow out, and then crash into the water. He saves one of the passengers (the other is already dead) and begins to discover that the blow out might not have been so by looking at the recording he got of the accident. As conspiracy plots pile up, director Brian De Palma utilizes textile backgrounds, sarcasm, and minimalism to make for a conspiracy thriller that transcends the genre. As the characters become so immersed within the conspiracy, it becomes clear that that is not so important, and perhaps it is the motivations of the characters that is. As something becomes so important within their lives, the most primal emotions come through. BLOW OUT is a masterpiece.
Blow Out: ★★★★

Personal Best

Personal Best is a good example of a film aging in material and substance, but not in imagery or tone. It is quite easy and obvious to explain that some of the materials used in early Sci-Fi films like Them!, where giant ants attack look corny because the images of the giant ants don't work well with the background. It is also easy to explain how things that were funny due to the political context of the day don't read as well years later. Those are examples of films that have aged badly, but Personal Best exhibits a third type of aging that is concentrated upon substance. For it is what Personal Best decides is import to accentuate that does not read well. It's a film about two world-class athletes who are preparing for the tryouts for the 1980 Moscow Olympics. It goes without saying in the film that this event is not taking place because of the United States boycott, but that isn't clear to a viewer in 2011. However, the film goes on to develop a relationship between three characters: a coach (Scott Glenn) and his two promising women's team pentathletes: a shy and timid Mariel Hemingway as Chris and a domineering and confident real-life athlete Patrice Donnelly as Tory. Chris and Tory develop a lesbian relationship, and the camera watches the relationship stoically, without having anything to say about what is kinky, sexy, erotic. There are long sequences of nudity that have no life to them, which actually adds to the worth of the film as it shows an observatory camera on interesting lives. The strength of the film lies within the manifestation of complex characters in complex lives with complex choices by damn good actors. It's constantly interesting, and also features wonderful sequences of slowed running, jumping, throwing, etc. Visually, its pretty great, and even in the storyline it has sequences of brilliance. However, in tonality, it is slight and inept (it has aged badly), for scenes feel forced or away from the action. Finally, a portion of the lesbian relationship makes, frankly, no sense. I would not spoil the entrance of another important character later in the film, but it drastically changes how we see both characters. This is, however, a worthwhile film.
Personal Best: ★★★