50/50

Sadly, 50/50 is another one of those Hollywood films that takes dead-serious subjects, like, in this case, cancer, and trivializes it into a series of generalities, or Joseph Gordon-Levitt having to chide Seth Rogen for using his cancer to get chicks. It's too bad that the film is usually so damn likable too, establishing some funny characters, decent pacing, and general jolliness when at its center is one big ugly spinal-cancer. In the film, Levitt's Adam is diagnosed with spinal cancer at only 27, and only has a 50% chance of surviving. He's shocked, especially due to his age. That's a problematic piece of information to begin with anyway, as if the public can only see a "serious" film about cancer if it's a 27 year-old with it. Hey, he sets off his dialogue with 'like', I can relate to him! His mother (Anjelica Huston) is distraught, his girlfriend (an icy Bryce Dallas Howard) is hands up for what to do, and his best friend (Rogen) is tastefully dismissive of the subject, attempting to cheer Adam up in any way that he can. Adam starts to see a psychiatrist (Anna Kendrick, always likable) and begins to have feelings for her. In fact, the best part of 50/50 is seeing Adam's shifting romantic allegiance, and, if the film had centered on that rather than the fact that it's so upsetting to see him with cancer, and THE REAL FACE OF CANCER, then we would have a pretty damn good movie on our hands. Instead, 50/50 places itself at the head of importance, and it's not only offensive, but poorly and weakly done. Adam cries, Adam mopes, Adam is happy, Adam is sad. This is not bold filmmaking, but easy filmmaking, boiling down seriousness to an emoticon selection bar.

★★

I Walked With a Zombie

I WALKED WITH A ZOMBIE is where the zombie genre starts, set off by the cheap Lewton-produced b-filmery that characterizes Jacques Tourneur. Tourneur, whose masterpieces come before and after this film, was a master of film noir, and that comes out the most in I WALKED WITH A ZOMBIE. Told by a single, female narrator, Tourneur's film recollects a young nurse's time spent at St. Sebastien, one of those Caribbean islands plagued by the history of slavery. Betsy spends her time trying to gain the favor of her boss, a tale and mustached elite, while juggling his odd and gloomy brother, piercing mother, and zombified wife. She is completely unaware of anything, and Betsy tries to cure her of this affliction. Outside of the gates, however, is the black culture, overtaken by voodoo in a dastardly fashion both political and morally questionable. I WALKED WITH A ZOMBIE is effective because it relies on imagery and tone to guide its story. It is odd and dreamy, occasionally melancholy and unhopeful. But this is what should characterize the genre of horror. No gimmicks, for, really, isn't scaring you out of your seat a gimmick? But, instead, creating a world that is deplorable and hopeless, the underbelly, that is admirable.

★★★★

Hesher

The mostly nice-guy Jason Gordon-Levitt plays Hesher, of the title, against type. Hesher is a mean piece of trash. He's got long hair, ridiculously stupid tattoos, and his sense of discipline is skewed, chocking up to: figure it out yourself. Hesher comes about when T.J. throws a rock through his window. It's not really his window, though, as Hesher's been hiding out in an abandoned house. He walks out and drags T.J. on the ground, the cops come, everyone runs, T.J. goes home and finds Hesher living in his garage. T.J.'s around 12 years old, and his mother has just died in a car crash. His father has resorted to absolute depression, and doesn't really mind Hesher. The point of the film seems to be to point out that any kind of interruption of normality or routine can shift sensibilities, and that's pretty well established by Levitt's Hesher, who couldn't be called a good influence, but certainly influences. However, the film is just so mired in a boring sense of what's interesting, setting up silly or stupid jokes that we're just supposed to snarl at. The film actually is so bad that despite committed performances it just angers us in its nonsensical rationality.

★

The Innkeepers

Much of this film is so good. The way that the characters hang out, the pacing, the title-cards, the color palette. And yet, it falls into a trap that so many films of 2012 have fallen into, that it's almost becoming a theme. I would relate the syndrome to Brian De Palma's worthless piece of crap: CARRIE. There's a film that, if the theater had lost electricity twenty minutes before the end of the movie, I would have walked home thinking it a masterpiece. The same was true of CHRONICLE. And now the same is true of THE INNKEEPERS. All of these films establish a wonderful sense of its individual values. In CARRIE, that's empathy. In CHRONICLE, it's anti-action. And in THE INNKEEPERS, it's sense of place. For the film slowly creates what it's like for the two characters: Claire (Sarah Paxton) and Luke (Pat Healy) as they work in the Yankee Pedlar Inn on its last weekend. The two hang out, flirt with each other and the idea of ghosts in the hotel, and a couple of weird last-minute guests. Director Ti West gives the hotel a very specific sense, and we watch how Claire reacts to Luke's inability to replace the rooms' towels, calling him to come down for his shifts, and surfing the internet at four in the morning. Then, however, the film loses its way because it did not trust what made the good parts of it so good. It falls into a clichéd universe of poorly executed fright scenes, and a truly dumb ending. THE INNKEEPERS has an ending that betrays the rest of it more than CHRONICLE, but in a similar way to CARRIE. Both films are horror films, so I'm not surprised. But still, THE INNKEEPERS is just so wonderfully meandering at the beginning that sharp shifts in mood and tone just ruin the film.

★★

Sleeping Beauty

I would say that the main element at play in SLEEPING BEAUTY, the Julia Leigh directed, Jane Campion produced quasi-feminist (or at least, woman-promoting) film, is to allow for a contradiction to exist. Many films have such contradictions working for them, and in SLEEPING BEAUTY, that contradiction, or simplistic contrast, is the orderly, occupational sex, gagging, and fondling within a pristine and sterile environment. This is stark, even at the opening, in which Lucy (Emily Browning) enters a medicinal research facility, flattened by evenly distributed light, and allows a long string with a camera to be lowered down her throat. As she gags, we get an obvious foreshadowing for the sex that is to come, but this is mainly to establish the kind of person who Lucy is: taking odd jobs or really, any, job, no matter how degrading, because she fails to value her body. There's an odd subplot that fails to work that comes up and, regardless of its weirdness, establishes Lucy as someone who breaks her life up into a series of duties and decisions. Eventually, Lucy takes a job as a Sleeping Beauty. In the job, she is drugged after drinking a spiked tea, and then is laid naked on a bed for old patrons to fondle her naked body. The one rule is: no penetration, but we see dangers illustrated in every single interaction: one man burning her to test the strength of the drugs, and another turning her over on her face where she almost suffocates. I think that the end of the film is weak and pathetic, pretending that suspense has been built when it really hasn't, and sort of betraying the earlier orderliness that's actually been established. I think the film sets a lot up but then forgets where to go. It's a very interesting film, but not a very good or full one, eventually becoming uneven and undeservedly preachy. Still, I found Browning's performance to be brave, but not in her nude scenes. And I'm already anticipating Leigh's next film.

★★

Shame

SHAME is one helluva movie, transposing the life of a sad, animalistic man against the supposed order of the great city. Brandon (Michael Fassbender) plays a chronic sex addict. He masturbates in the shower, has a disgusting hard drive filled with terms some people don't even recognize, and fucks anyone he can. Luckily for Brandon, that "anyone" is usually someone pretty attractive. I wonder what director Steve McQueen's film would have looked like without any glamour. Instead, this is a pretty glamorized film, featuring many scenes of Fassbender eye-fucking women on the train, the streets, the bars. But, once again, almost in defiant surprise, McQueen's contradictory glamorizations don't ruin the film. As in HUNGER, SHAME concerns itself with a disgusting topic through the lens of high art, and it still ends up working. I think this is because McQueen is tapping into a desire of ours to see such things through such lenses. I don't think this is a deplorable action, actually, because if we see these things through such lenses, our responses to them must be judged under the same lens. Brandon is extremely charismatic, and he exists at the polestar of sex, putting his co-workers to shame. The film is not as it has been billed: a film about the state of sex addiction, but more like: what can it be? what must it be? It's a dreamier approach, but because Brandon is such a symbol, we can respond to him in that fashion. It's sort of a sad but brilliant way to approach things, and it works.

Shame: ★★★★

Something Resembling

Something resembling depression has kept me away from this blog, and, as sadness always comes with self-depracation, any form of self-expression was put on hold. Eventually, however, we all rise up out of the ashes, and I did so through films. I wonder if it's not just a coincidence that before my break, I had seen something around 14 bad films in a row. Now, a few films have brought me back.