Inglourious Basterds? Yes.

Well, I saw it. And I laughed. And I really enjoyed myself.

I mean, what could possibly be more pleasing than taking in a film that crosses more genres than Big Trouble in Little China? What makes you laugh more than seeing HUGO STIGLITZ bursting in Blaxplotation brilliance? What is more incredible than hearing the haunting tones of Ennio Morricone in the midst of war-torn, German-occupied France? What could be more wonderful than seeing a man bash in another man’ skull with a bat? What could be more awesome than watching a bunch of Jewish-Americans make sure those disgusting Nazi’s get what they deserve? What could be more incredible…

You see where I’m going.

Okay, Tarantino is an incredible filmmaker. And I think that this movie shows his gifts. The humor is subtle yet hysterical. The mixing of genres stirs my soul - I understand that impulse, I love it. It was perfectly acted. Really. And honestly, who can deny a film that blatantly changes history? Brilliant.

But the problem with the movie is that it stands overagainst everything that I stand for. Perhaps it is just a movie. Perhaps it is just a setting for Tarantino to explore the movies that he loved growing up. Perhaps it is just a good story about how he might want to imagine that WWII should have ended.

But I guess that is, for me, no excuse. Because nothing is just an anything, and this certainly is not just a movie. It represents all of the glorified nationalism that America has felt at least since the turn of the century, and the glorified nationalism that still wants to make its enemies un-human. It glorifies violence (even if it is the outrageous Tarantino type violence) not only as cool, or romantic, but as the appropriate response to the destructive impulses of others. And it happens at just the right season for Americans – to transfer so easily unto the beastly enemies we face now: those who hate us for our freedoms. It gives us a posture to keep having toward our enemies, and just the right kind of heroes to hope for.

Now, we might say that Tarantino is intending this very overdramatized nonsense to actually act as critique. Or we could say that the outrageousness of the violence makes for showing the evil and roughness and awkwardness of it all. But I don’t think so. I think we’re supposed to laugh when Aldo the Apache demands his scalps. I think we supposed to cringe when the Bear beats the living shit out that German’s head, but we’re also supposed to awe at the raw American power, because that’s what happens when you mess with us. I think we’re supposed to sigh satisfaction when we blow the theatre, and when Hitler’s face is made mush by pounding of our bullets. And I think we’re supposed to agree with Tarantino – that’s the way it should’ve all ended. That’s how we should’ve ended it.

I could be wrong in my assessment of Tarantino’s intentions. But if I’m not, then I don’t agree. And what bothers me the most is that, though I sensed this disapproval not ten minutes into the film, I did laugh. I was awed, and I was satisfied. Whatever Tarantino grabbed with his inglourious art was deep inside of me. And that’s what scares me.

Voicing about Voiceovers

Alright, y’all, it’s been a while. For that I apologize. However, I come to you now, in this great hour of need, to appeal to you to help Doug and I settle, insofar as that is even possible, a debate question.

As we settled yesterday to watch Decalogue VI,[1] the question came up about voiceover. It was inspired by a line from the movie Adaptation, where the brilliant Brian Cox portrays screenplay guru Robert McKee.[2] While speaking at his famous story seminar, ripping apart many different film writer faux pas, he quips in a harsh whisper, “And God help you if you use voiceover!” The nature of the disagreement came with my personal disagreement with him. I don’t think it’s true that voiceover is a bad thing. Doug, however (in his steely way), sided with the Adaptation McKee[3] that voiceover is cheap and never a good idea.[4]

I understood a lot of his reasons. It’s overdone, and often when it is done, it is done badly. I concede that completely. Especially when it’s expositional. Relying on voiceover to move the plot (as opposed to the Story itself – and there is a difference) can be a deadly mistake. You use dialogue, actions, scenes of tension; it’s the show-don’t-tell philosophy all over again. In that regard, voiceover can be completely destructive.

However, to say because of that, it is across-the-board weak – well, I can’t agree with that at all. I mean, some movies need voiceover, not for plot, but for story, because it is their perspective that is one of the key forces of the story. In this regard, it is like dialogue; dialogue that is expositional is cheap and boring, and often annoying, because it lacks perspective and interaction. Voiceover that is expositional is the same. But voiceover itself is like dialogue, in its own special way, because the perspective of the narrator is oftentimes the over-arching perspective of the story, and the interaction is of the narrator with the audience itself. Like the first person narrative in books, the narrator is telling us a story from his/her point of view. And when that works, that’s golden.

I think of it like flashbacks, which are like voiceovers in that they are incredibly hard to do well and they provide perspective. The crown jewel example of this would be Rashomon. The movie is almost completely perspectival – even the flashbacks told in the trial are set within the flashbacks of the three characters dialoguing in the film, and the point of the story is how each carries with it the character’s own perspective. Other films that do flashbacks in interesting and powerful ways could include Laura, Citizen Kane, Unbreakable, Enter the Dragon, Darjeeling Limited, The Bourne Ultimatum, and Big Fish. For every one of those films, there are of course one hundred or even a thousand that do flashbacks really badly, and the same could be said for voiceover, but that does not make the devices themselves bad; it makes them tricky, difficult, and risky. But as in many things, those that are tricky, difficult, and risky are often the stuff of the greatest and most powerful achievements, with the greatest payoff. Hell, in Casablanca, the flashbacks are probably the weakest part of the film, but I don’t know if it could’ve worked without it.

And I don’t know if utter gems like What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?, The Shawshank Redemption, Legends of the Fall, V for Vendetta, Juno, or countless others would work without the voiceover. The voiceovers in these stories make the film, because of the perspectives they provide. I can’t imagine trying to adapt a book to film like The Catcher in the Rye without using voiceover, because it’s not just the story, it’s Holden Caulfield’s (somewhat skewed) perspective of the story that is important. The same is true for these other movies. And rather than get rid of these devices, we need to think of new and fresh ways to use them to empower us to continue to make masterpieces.

Of course, it is not secret that the line that sparked this entire debate is from a movie that heavily relies on voiceover. However, I would hold that Adaptation works because of the voiceover, not in spite of it. It is the singular perspective of Charlie Kaufman that makes something quite “uninteresting” (the struggle of the movie itself) quite interesting indeed.

So let us know what you think, and provide examples from either side of the debate.

Voiceover – 5/5

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[1] Which, incidentally, was incredibly brilliant. Review forthcoming.

[2] Cox was McKee’s own personal choice for the role, I’m told.

[3] It might be something he really thinks, but as I have never been to his seminar or read his book, I don’t know; the movie is all I have to go on.

[4] Yes, he did say never, I don’t care if he denies it =).

Four Fantastic Documentaries I've Seen This Summer

Gotta love documentaries. Well, then again, I guess you don’t gotta, but if you don’t, then there is probably something wrong with you. But that is neither here nor there, because if you don’t love documentaries, then you’re probably not reading this. And if you do like documentaries, then you’re probably getting irritated that I have not gone ahead and started the frickin’ post already. *sighs* Alright, on with the show.

Koyaanisqatsi

Well, it’s a classic. The title is a Native American word from the Hopi language meaning "Life out of balance," and the film suggests that that is just what modern living is. When I first began my quest of film snobbery, I watched this film. My friend and fellow contributor said this was like taking the elevator while everyone else was taking the stairs. I mean, as soon as you see the film, you’re instantly cultured. It contains no “script” whatsoever, only a series of videos and pictures which contrast nature to our current lifestyle in the post-Industrial West. It is brilliant and beautiful, and many of the shots are breath-taking. My favorite shot was when they transposed the rows of hotdogs going down an assembly line with a multitude of people going through rows of escalators. It was really wonderful – you just have to see it to appreciate what I’m saying. So for that reason and many others, go watch the film and become disillusioned with our consumerist/industrialists lifestyles which are certainly contrary to Creation. 5/5

For the Bible Tells Me So

A specifically Christian documentary which deals with the issue of GLBT[1] inclusion in the Church. It follows several Christian families as they deal with this issue personally, some who become pro-inclusion and others that remain “conservative.” For the most part, although the documentary is certainly biased towards inclusion, it is fair, and does not misrepresent dissenting views. This is a serious issue in the Church, and I think if anyone wishes to have an opinion on it, they need to openly and honestly deal with the objections and arguments - from several areas – that this documentary raises. 4.3/5

Deliver Us from Evil

This truly upsetting documentary has for its subject Oliver O’Grady, the infamous priest who raped and molested over one hundred children in California while filling the role of priest in several Catholic Churches. It deals very brutally with the horror of O’Grady’s crime, but has in the background a more sinister culprit that worked very hard for the sake of politics and saving face to hide the crimes: the Holy Roman Catholic Church. I love the Church, and hold myself as part of her fold, and that includes without shame my Catholic brothers, from Pope to Priest to “lay” person. However, I was as indignant and sorrowful and ashamed as anyone (especially as a Christian) when this documentary exposed the horrible actions of this Diocese and this priest, then showed the systemic cycle of evil that was happening all over the churches. There are several awful, heart-wrenching scenes that will bring tears to the eyes. 4.9/5

The End of Suburbia

This film tackles the ever-rising issue of the coming energy crisis, centered around our own oil-based economy. It argues cogently that oil depletion is very real, and that the decline of oil production will force the American culture with its mega-consumerism and silly spending like there is no tomorrow to be altered drastically. As our economic changes out of pure necessity (probably bringing with it some dark times), communities (so the film prophesizes) will become localized, centralized (“walkable”), and more self-sufficient. As our oil-based economy all but collapses, prices of all things will skyrocket because of our reliance upon trucks and highways. The local community will become the new economy, and people will become local producers. This is all, of course, a very important issue. However, I came away from the film with a great deal of hope. I think in many ways these predictions sound like a greater humanity, and perhaps the crisis could bring a great deal of good with it. Time will only tell. But regardless, it was a really good film. 4/5

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[1] That’s “Gay, Lesbian, Bi-sexual, and Transgendered” for those less informed ;).

The Player: Now More than Ever

I just got done watching The Player. I had thought it was the first time, and maybe this has happened to you before, but I realized about half way through – “Hey! I’ve seen this movie before!” The first time was in High School, and I remember liking it, but I cannot imagine I understood it enough to appreciate it. A Robert Altman film, it simultaneously pays homage to and satirizes the long tradition of Hollywood movie-making. Just as we might expect from the guy who did Gosford Park, he was a master of laying conversations upon conversations.[1] He also makes use of several movies posters to undergird the storyline, which provide an almost witty commentary to the film’s plot moves.[2] Perhaps most impressively, there is a seven minute shot to open the movie – quite well done – and certainly paying homage to Touch of Evil (Orson Welles) and Rope (Alfred Hitchcock).[3]

The gist of the movie is a “dirt-bag studio exec” (Robbins) who starts getting harassed by a writer he apparently brushed. Postcards are coming, threatening his death. Growing steadily more uneasy by the continued threats as well as rumors that he is soon to lose his job, Robbins attempts to sought out the writer and get him to stop. This turns ugly, and he ends up killing the writer. The thriller ensues. If you want more, go watch the movie.

Now, I want this post to consider a major theme of the movie and then end with a question. As already stated, the film certainly critiques the business angle of Hollywood, making movies with stars and happy endings because that is what makes money, and not caring to represent reality – not caring for art. Over and over in the movie, the writers who wish to make art and commentate on reality are pitted against the studio execs who want to give the public the shallow entertainment they want. This is perfectly exemplified in the scene where Robbins accepts an honor at a party for donating a number of films to the LA museum. There he says something along the lines of: “The media is saying that films are not art, they are entertainment. But they are. Films are art, now more than ever.” But these stirring words are completely contradicted by the shabby shallow ending given to a movie that is developed throughout the film, first intending to end badly and represent reality, then given a blockbuster happy ending complete with witty, BS line. The film will of course, be a success.

My question is, has this changed? This has been a common critique of “Hollywood,”[4] and in the last decade or so (correct me if I’m wrong), we’ve seen the rise of the “Indie Film.” Often these films break the Hollywood conventions and have more gut-wrenching representations and critiques upon reality. Now I don’t mean to imply that it is some kind of shallow generality; Hollywood movies (whatever that even means) can and do represent reality, whereas some Indie films do have the very themes and misrepresentations Hollywood is critiqued for. However, it seems to me that perhaps the semi-recent popularity of the independent productions is because people are aching for the kind of things that are not glossed over, manipulated, or spiced up. They are looking for art that is real, that is almost unapologetic.

What do you think, oh Constant Reader? I invite, of course, any kind of corrections to my thinking – it really is an honest question. You might say, “Oh, Indie films have always been around and you’re wrong,” or “You’re speaking in false generalities,” or “It does not even make sense to talk in these broad categories of ‘Hollywood’ and ‘Indie,’” or all that other good stuff. But it seems like the Indie film has provided both artists and appreciators an arena to enjoy artistic manifestations that are a little more “real” than the common Hollywood pop-archetype. Does the critique of Hollywood in The Player stand true? Are the independent productions filling a void in the film audiences of the American world?

The Player – 3.92-4.6, depending on which aspect of the film we are talking about.

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[1] Two things: 1) this is an anachronistic compliment, I know; 2) the scenes at the outside restaurants (the first with Cusack and Houston, the second with Burt Reynolds) are prime examples of this.

[2] My favorite was showing the poster for “M,” then dissolving to a table with a reservation upon it for Mr. “M” – Tim Robbins character is named Griffin Mill.

[3] And interestingly enough, both movies are mentioned during the scene.

[4] And other entertainment industries, such as music, where pop is disdained, and many connoisseurs listen to nothing but underground bands.

The Man Who Laughs (1928)

The Man Who Laughs is a silent film about the son of an English Lord, Gwynplaine, who is disfigured by a surgeon to punish his father in a political power struggle. The father is then “killed”[1] and the young boy banished. The boy does not make it to the boat, though, and is abandoned in a gallows near port. He finds a blind baby girl in the arms of her dead mother, and takes her with him as he searches for food and shelter from the cold. He is taken in by Ursus the philosopher, who raises him and the blind girl, Dea, and takes them on a circuit as the attraction “The Man Who Laughs.”

Gwynplaine, doomed to be disfigured, looking ever like a grinning clown, draws a great deal of crowd. As they grow up, Gwynplaine and Dea fall in love, but Gwynplaine will not marry Dea until another woman does not laugh at him. “It is not my right,” he says, referring to the fact that she has never seen his face. It is not long in the film before Gwynplaine’s heritage is discovered, and the Queen of England orders him made a peer and husband of a Duchess – a selfish, self-absorbed, and seductive woman. The love conflict ensues.

I had never watched a silent film before, and it was one of the more interesting experiences in my adventures in film. It was an engrossing flick. Much relies on the acting for the story to work without any dialogue, which it does in spades. The acting was without a doubt the most impressive part of the movie. It was only slightly overdone and mostly very believable. But for all the good acting, no one comes close in the film to the performance of Conrad Veidt, who plays Gwynplaine. You may or may not remember him from his role as Major Strasser in Casablanca. Throughout the film, he wears only a hideous grin, and yet despite the deformity, we are able to see an incredible array of emotions through his body language and especially his eyes: joy, sorrow, pain, terror, anger, and much more. He was simply amazing. Perhaps one of the greatest acting performances I have ever seen.

One scene I enjoyed in particular was when the Duchess, who both is attracted to and revolted by Gwynplaine, watches his show with a grimace on her face, and you are unable to understand what she is feeling until she sends her note to Gwynplaine: “I was the woman who did not laugh. Was it pity? Or was it love? My page will come for you at midnight.” We find out, it was both.

It is a good movie, no doubt. I don’t know how well the plot works, but it’s a good story and has its own culture, which comes through strongly in the telling. Based on a novel by Victor Hugo, it well portrays (at least, as far as I know) the differences in class as well as the political games played by the social elite of the 1700’s. There were several moments in the film where I actually laughed out loud. The love story of the film is told exquisitely – I mean perfectly. There is nothing like a tale of star-crossed lovers, and this is no exception. “God closed my eyes so I could see only the real Gwynplaine,” Dea says (whispers, as I imagine it in my mind)[2] to her man, and oh (*sighs*), you just believe her. And of course, as already stated, Veidt performance as the Man Who Laughs is haunting, piercing, and does not leave you quickly. Bob Kane and Bill Finger cited Veidt’s interpretation as the main inspiration for their infamous psychopathic killer the Joker, and it is not a stretch to see why.

[spoiler below - yeah, I don't know how to do Doug's nifty little "highlight to read spoiler" thing]

My one complaint for the film is that I wish it had incorporated Hugo’s original tragic ending, instead of the happy ending that is suddenly tacked on. I think it would have better captured the poignant spirit of the story, but it still works, and is well worth the watch. It is proper to rate such a classic film? I don’t know. Probably only a real jerk would. But since I’m just that kind of jerk, I’ll give a rating – aesthetic and mostly useless. The bottom line is, you should see the film regardless. But anywho…

4.98/5 (I’m still kinda pissed about that switcheroo on the ending)

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[1] At least, they stick him in the “Iron Lady,” a metal shell shaped like a body with spikes on the inside, giving him a slow, incomprehensible death.

[2] That is the really interesting thing about silent film – much like a book, the freedom and limitations you are given to interpret the dialogue and acting. I mean, you hear the dialogue in your head; that’s your only option.

Prophetic Visage: Movie Advice of the Month

Or, "What NOT to Do When Given a Prophetic Message by a Strange, Usually Otherworldly Character concerning Impending Doom or Destruction of You and/or Your Loved Ones."

I've seen it a million times. Guy/Gal runs into some ethereal character or self-proclaimed oracle. Oracle tells him/her about at great tragedy that will befall them sometime in the future. In great anxiety, our character tries in vain to prevent the prophecy, and by their "preventative" actions, actually bring about the fulfillment of the prophecy itself. It's at least as old as Oedipus and Antigone.

So when given some message of negative destiny from some elusive doomsayer, we at Conversio suggest this: do nothing. Just continue on business as usual. Do your best to ignore the prophecy. Just get a cup of coffee, watch a movie, and try to forget the whole thing.

Some things to keep in mind:

1. Never try to kill the guy that is prophesied to destroy you, especially if he is your best friend. Chances are, your actions will begin the process that leads to your destruction.

2. Do not trust the advice of power-hungry, malicious, ambitious wives. This goes not only for prophetic instances, but life in general.

3. Do not trust old, mysterious men who shoot lightning out of their hands to have the ability to undo the prophetic pronouncement. This is a really, really bad idea (though it could lead to having a really cool voice).

If this does not work, and doing nothing does, no pun intended, absolutely nothing to prevent the prophecy, well, please do not blame us for this advice. I mean, it was a fateful prophecy. Hard to compete with that.


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By the way, I apologize for the hiatus. School has begun again, and I have been very busy. I have seen several great movies, and hope to update you soon. Until then, peace.

The Twist in the Tale: Movie Advice of the Month

I wanted to title the post:

What to Say If Someone Asks You upon Sharing Some Grand Discovery in the Intricate, Dangerous Case You Are Investigating in which Many Clues Have Led through a Trail of Murder and Death If You Have Told Anyone Else about Your Crucial Discovery: Movie Advice of the Month

But apparently that was too long. Anyway...

Okay, so you’ve been in over your head. You’re a simple detective, but the seemingly simple murder has turned into a great big fiasco involving all kinds of local bigwigs. Having made the crucial discovery in the case that will put certain wealthy power-mongers away for good, you share it with your boss/trusted friend/fellow companion/etc.

Then they say something along the lines of: “Have you told anyone else about this?”

If you want to die, the answer is always: “No.” Always. Because when anyone asks you a question like that (especially provided the above context), you can be fairly certain that they are about to kill you.

But if you want to live, say something like: “Yes. In fact, I’ve told lots of people. All kinds of people, even. Really, you wouldn’t believe all the people I’ve told! And I wrote it all in my diary as soon as I discovered it. And I told a whole bunch of people I was coming over here, and I put my diary in a safety deposit box, and told them that if anything happens, to send that to the police. And I told your mom, and your grandmother, and your spouse. I even told the police chief. Really, like, everyone knows at this point except you. You were last on my list of people to tell.” Other variations may be acceptable, but to deviate from this general idea would result in almost certain death, or at the very least, a fantastic gun battle where you will escape but only barely.

You see, the person you trusted the whole time – they are almost surely the mastermind behind it all. At least…oh, nine times out of ten.

And who says movies can’t teach us anything valuable?

Decalogue II & III: Show, Don't Tell

Okay, I’m beginning to see why everybody who has seen these films calls them brilliant. Really, the reason is quite simple: it’s because they are frickin’ brilliant. No doubt about it. They are really something special. Just to show all you high-budget punks out there – made-for-TV can be all up in that bizz, yo.

Two things that I find especially amazing about these particular films: the shots and the storytelling. Let me explain.

1. One of my favorite shots of all time is in the movie What’s Eating Gilbert Grape? Those of you who know the movie may remember the scene where he burns the house down. There is a shot as he strikes the match and you see the “Keep Away From Children” warning as the fire flares up – it’s properly scrumtrullescent.[1] Well, in The Decalogue, those kind of shots are almost common. From the I, there was the milk in the tea. In II, there are delicious shots of a cigarette box starting on fire, the water dripping from the ceiling, the wasp struggling in the tea. This last was especially poignant, a perfect representation of the feeling fairly common for humans in the universe. In III, there is that wonderful shot when Ewa leaves her mother’s house and we watch her leave from the window. Several overhead shots such as these give us a strange perspective of the events – one reviewer suggested this may be “God’s perspective.” In any case, this kind of choreography and direction give us a strange, life-like surreal quality to our viewing – it feels like we’re there, it feels like our own story is being told. The almost constant absence of music, the simple, long framing of shots, and the natural dialogue complete with awkward pauses and introspective silence all work towards a very “mundane” reality within the films.

2. In most creative writing classes and books, most likely the principle rule you will learn is “Show, Don’t Tell.” The idea is, don’t tells us, “He was mad.” Show us. Show us his shaking hands. Make us hear his tone of voice. Have him kick something. Anything other than tell us through simple exposition: He was mad. The Decalogue manifests this principle perhaps better than any film I’ve ever seen.[2] There is almost no exposition at all. No conversations happen that explicitly relate to us the plot, tell us what is going on in explicit terms, even tell us what the characters are thinking and feeling. We are shown the story by a woman ripping the leaves off of a plant, a man toppling the donation candles before an altar, a woman standing at a window smoking a cigarette. The film forces you to interact with it, to experience it along with the characters.

Decalogue II tells the story of a woman whose husband is sick, perhaps dying. She tries to get the doctor that is caring for him, who lives in the same building as her (remember that all the stories take place within this one building), to give her a prognosis: will he die or not? The doctor refuses to give a diagnosis. She pushes him, explaining that she is pregnant – but with another man’s child;[3] if he lives, she will get an abortion, if he dies, she will keep the child. Still, the doctor will not give prognosis. “I have seen patients that should have died and pulled through, and patients that should’ve been fine, but died inexplicably.” Eventually the doctor does give in, and his “prognosis” serves to illustrate the commandment “Thou shall not take my name in vain:” No one but God decides who lives and dies. That is the realm of his authority alone.

Decalogue III is probably, thus far, the most abstract examination of a commandment. An exposition of the Sabbath, we have a man who is drawn away from his family on Christmas Eve by a former lover in the midst of crisis. They spend the night together, and we unravel their complex history as well as the deep layers of interaction between them as the night progresses. The main idea seems to be the principle of family within the Sabbath command. It is an examination of fidelity and regret.

I am excited to see the rest. Every 50 minutes feels like a lifetime. They are not exactly fun to watch. But they are encompassing. They are engaging yet “normal” stories that never fail to leave you wondering, and identifying with all the characters portrayed. There are no black and white people – each story is told from all perspectives, so that while some characters are better than others, we find it hard to judge any of them, because they are people. The Decalogue is a meaningful, purposeful look at life, and thus, as we watch, we find that, in some strange way, we are looking at ourselves.

5/5 (for both)

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[1] Those of you who have not seen the movie, stop everything you are doing right now, give yourself a swirly, then acquire and watch the movie with all the quickness that you can possible muster. This is life or death.

[2] Other films that do this really well off the top of my head: Punch-Drunk Love, Darjeeling Limited (really, any Wes Andersen film), Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Yojimbo (and it’s Western interpretation, Fistful of Dollars), and National Treasure. This last one is a complete joke, as National Treasure actually serves as a prime example of how to rely completely on exposition for moving the plot forward.

[3] This (adultery) has been a theme in two of the films thus far, and we have not even gotten to the commandment on adultery.

Bandits: German Rockers Girls

Four young German girls on the run from the law who spend their time blasting out American rock songs – what could be better than that? Wait, don’t answer that. But if your answer is “nothing,” or even “not much,” or maybe even, “I don’t know,” then Bandits is the movie for you. And maybe some others.

It’s foreign film, so if you hate subtitles, beware. But then again, if you hate subtitles, you should probably be reading somebody else’s blog, for in the true pretentious form of a genuine film snob, I must scoff at such apathetic sensibilities. But if you can get past the foreignness, then Bandits is really a fun film.

The story centers, as I have mentioned, on four German girls who meet in prison and start a band. They escape, but before they do, one of them sent off a demo tape of their performance. As the news of their prison break becomes widespread, the record producer guy who originally threw away their demo digs it back up, and quickly after that, the young band of girls (the name of their band, by the way, is “Bandits;” hence the title, right?) become quite popular indeed. The remainder of the film is them dealing with their newfound fame while trying to avoid the police (which ends up feeling like old Beatles films like Help!, where they constantly are on the run in disguise from throngs of fans) and dealing with their own inner turmoil.

The movie is interspersed with artistic (but slightly unrealistic) stylized scenes that are for the most part very fun to watch. Also, at several points, we have music videos of a sort as the band performs their various songs. The psychology of the movie is fairly trite, but believable. The acting is average. But the quality of film lies in the sheer fun of it. It has its serious moments, of course. The theme of death is revisited several times. “We live amidst death all of our lives, until the moment we die,” one of the gals says. When tragedy strikes, the line is repeated. But overall, it is a film about four quirky girls who, in an act of desperation, leave behind the troubles of their previous lives and live a dream, if only for a short time.

If you’re into obscure, foreign films, I would recommend it, if you could find it. It’s fun, it’s got very humorous scenes, and the soundtrack is really good. It is a entertaining watch, and has a certain charm. Plus, it’s German. I mean, Germans are cool.

3.8/5

Conspiracy: Euphemism and Death

“It is important to know what words mean. But it is also important to remember that in a thousand years, no matter who holds the power, history will be written in those words.”

This is the summation of the policy held by the Nazis, as portrayed in Conspiracy, a film depicting the Wannsee Conference, considered one of the more important meetings during the years of WWII concerning the fate of the Jews. The line is spoken by Heydrich (played brilliantly by Kenneth Brannagh), who was one of the key architects of the Jewish exterminations deployed by the Nazi regime.

The 2001 film is based off the conference minutes recorded in Wannsee, a Berlin “suburb,” and the script is said to stick very closely to the timeframe and discussion of the conference. Having studied a little bit in this area of history, I could tell that were several accuracies in the general feel of the film. The interaction between the political and military leaders there was very true to the political climate within the Nazi regime. Hitler was known for pitting his underlings against each other to fight for his approval, and this is well depicted in the partisans politely employed ploys and deceptions. No one says what they mean, but everybody knows exactly what is being said. Also accurate was motivation for the chambers as caused by a drop in morale of the soldiers who would spend hours a day with their only task shooting Jews (including women and children). The feel of the film is very natural. The atmosphere is deftly and wonderfully portrayed.

There was a lot less discussion at the real conference. Most of the 85 minutes of the meeting was a speech by Heydrich. The meeting was not, as is sometimes supposed, to decide the fate of the Jews. That was for the most part already decided, and such a decision would never be made by a council as such at any rate – such a decision would belong to the Führer. The meeting was actually to consolidate the power of Heydrich, who had been put in charge of carrying out the “evacuation” of the Jews. The Nazi regime was notoriously very unorganized, and many different departments and leaders had jurisdiction in many overlapping areas. Heydrich’s intention in the meeting was to make clear his authority over all the members that had a “say” in the Jewish issue of Nazi Germany.

However, the film does not fail to portray this. After about thirty minutes of opinion, Heydrich’s right hand man Eichmann basically feeds the meeting’s attendants about the “successes” of the gas chambers, and the possibilities achievable (something like 61 million Jews a year, estimated). Sprinkled throughout the film is Heydrich’s meeting with several of the more influential members, where a discreet but clear purpose if made: “You have a choice,” Heydrich says over and over. Decide your allegiances. I’m in charge.

The entire film takes place at the Wannsee estate, mostly within the one conference room. Brannagh is absolutely brilliant as Heydrich, as I have already said. Heydrich was known for his charismatic personality, and Brannagh captures this wonderfully. Even his threats are polite, said in a gentle voice with a smile on his face. Stanley Tucci plays a very good, composed, reserved Eichmann, who because of his personal experience with the Jews (even to the extent of knowing the “Jewish language”) was considered one of the most important people for dealing with the Jews “practically.” Walter Stuckart was done wonderfully by Colin Firth, which is to be expected. There is no action, the entire film takes place in dialogue, and is sometimes confusing as you try to keep all the people straight, with all of their job descriptions and such. Although exposition occurs, it is kept to a minimum, and so while this makes much more work for the audience as they try to keep up with the intricacies of Nazi German political culture, it keeps the whole setting very natural and believable. The film works.

It is something of a study in rhetoric, language, philosophy and propaganda. No clear terminology is to be used – the Jews are to be “evacuated,” nothing more. Any mention of clear intentions is “stricken from the record.” At one point, one of the attendees says something to the effect of “why don’t we just call this ‘evacuation’ for what it is.” Tucci as natural and as discreet as can be turns to the transcriber and shakes his head – it is perfectly shot, well done indeed. The film is a parabolic study of the Nazi philosophy/politics. Nietzsche and Darwin are both mentioned, both times with dual connotations (their context and our context would provide the two-sides of the dual meaning).

“We will be moving Jews in days, not weeks,” Heydrich says after the meeting is over. “Start writing up your train schedules. Ah, Schubert Quintet in C major. The adagio will tear your heart out.” Like De Niro in The Untouchables, that amazing scene where Capone cries over Mozart’s Le Mariage de Figaro interspersed with shots of a murder that he commanded, here we have glimpse of someone – a person – who can be so moved by art and yet unaffected by the terrible things that he does. The whole meeting clearly portrays a group of men convinced, for whatever reasons, that they are superior to the Jews, that the Jews are a problem, a problem that needs a solution. Whenever we study the Holocaust, we always wonder how it could be possible, and yet the dark feeling inside remains, wondering if we would have been capable or even disposed to do the same if it had been us. Conspiracy is one more reminder of the double-edged question, and like most portrayals of the Holocaust, provides no clear answers.

4/5

The Dark Knight: Batman at New Heights

94% on Rotten Tomatoes. Four stars from good ole Ebert. A flow of unending praise from reviews all over the net. And they are all saying the same thing: The Dark Knight is perhaps the greatest superhero movie yet.

Really, they might be right. As a superhero movie/comic book fan, I’m going through the ole movie rolodex in the head, comparing it to all of my favorites. To tell the truth, the top of the list has been Batman Begins for three years now.[1] Does the sequel surpass the original? This could become the common debate, much like considerations of Godfather I and II or Star Wars episodes four and five. At any rate, beyond comparative questions that must always be arbitrary and are probably not helpful,[2] the truth of the matter is that The Dark Knight is probably going to be the biggest movie of the year. It is a true force to be reckoned with, a film of sheer power, and is going to change the way superhero movies are made, conceived, and received. “There’s no going back,” the Joker remarks to the Bat, “You’ve changed things…forever.” I can’t help but agree.

Of course, I wonder if we should even classify it simply as a “superhero” movie. I think it might be better thought of as an action/crime drama. Like Heat, the near-three hours are simply mesmerizing, and pass very quickly. I’m told that Heat was actually a great influence on Nolan in making the film. This very well could be true. They share a similar event-driven plot that is continually accented by personal character struggles and colliding story lines. We build to the climax in much the same way: slowly, methodically, but consistently and with dark excitement. The bank heist scene, as well as the interrogation scene, also felt to me a lot like the classic crime drama.

The scientist/detective we all know and love is definitely here. Batman Begins, of course, didn’t paint Bruce Wayne as a dummy, but here we really see him break out. As the Joker terrorizes Gotham, attempting through a steady series of ingeniously planned[3] assassinations to engage Batman in a strange psychological game, the caped crusader relies not just on his gadgetry but also on his incredible intellect to capture the crazy clown prince of crime. But perhaps more importantly, the psychological struggle in this film has been taken to a whole new level for the Batman film franchise. And this is not just for the haunted billionaire alone; Harvey Dent, Rachel Dawes, even Gordon, all are brought through incredible mental and ethical struggles throughout the story.

In one of the few bad reviews I’ve found of the film, The Dark Knight is accused of being a philosophically cheap world of polarities and dualities. This could be the case. The Joker says to Batman with a crooked smile, “You complete me.” The question is revisited again and again as to whether or not the Joker is exactly the kind of inspiration that a vigilante like the Batman would bring about. But I think this is only a shallow analysis of a much more complex portrayal. It would, I believe, be a mistake to simply see Batman and the Joker as polar opposites representing good and evil. Clearly, the kind of struggles and choices that the “hero” makes throughout the film muddy our image of good in him.[4] If anything, the movie may say something to the effect that there is no true, pure good, or maybe (just maybe) that kind of good can always be corrupted. Again and again, the truly great decisions of the film come from very imperfect people (we especially see this on the boats towards the end). The movie has a very complicated view of people, of their motivations, and of the struggles they have in the decisions they make, both for good and evil. And really, I don’t know that just because the Joker says something means we should take it as the message of the film. He is a constant liar throughout,[5] and in the end, his philosophy of corruption is clearly portrayed as incorrect.

To be honest, I think there are much deeper, and in our age and part of the world, more pressing political/philosophical speculations in the film. In a room deep in Wayne Enterprises, the Batman comes up with a way to put surveillance on all the citizens of Gotham, and Lucius Fox says, “This…is…wrong.” It is, of course, reminiscent of a similar issue that has been at the forefront of American politics recently.[6] In a conversation between Wayne, Dawes, and Dent, Dent praises the Romans for, in times of military crisis, putting the all the power in the hands of one man to get a job. Dawes counters that this is how Rome ended up with Julius Caesar – one of history’s most famous dictators. “Either you die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain,” Dent responds. Indeed.

But in the center of this psychological thriller truly does stand one, lone villain. Heath Ledger’s Joker is what everybody is talking about, and with good reason. He steals the show – he really does, and it is a good show to begin with. The acting of the movie is certainly above average. Bale is, of course, solid as a rock in his interpretation. Morgan Freeman, Gary Oldman, and Michael Caine are everything you could ask for from such veterans. Gyllenhaal is good, and Eckhart, who is facing some criticism as the only flaw of a nearly flawless film, I think does very well in his own right. But honestly, no one holds a candle to Heath Ledger’s Joker. When I first heard that Ledger would be doing the Joker, I’ll admit, I was really suspicious. After the first teaser, when I heard his voice,[7] I said, “He’s going to be the best Joker interpretation there ever was.” I was not disappointed.

For me, the pinnacle interpretation has always been Mark Hamill’s voicing in Timm and Dini’s masterful Batman portrayal, Batman: The Animated Series. He was the perfect synthesis of humor and bedlam – he was funny, and yet so evil. Well, I think, with ALL due respect to Timm and Dini’s masterpiece, the animated Joker has been surpassed. Ledger was brilliant. Incredible, really. Every twitch, every delivery, every laugh and every expression is pure magnificence. He deserves every consideration for the Oscar, and perhaps we really are going to see the first posthumous Oscar since Peter Finch (Network).[8]

The principle scene of the film was between Bale and Ledger in the interrogation room. It was like watching Pacino and De Niro at the restaurant in Heat, or Eastwood and Malkovich from In the Line of Fire. The incredible charisma between the actors, the tension between hero and villain, the intensity of the moment in the film. Absolutely brilliant, and yet believable. Nolan’s Joker is something special: he appears out of nowhere, with a back story as clean and clear as his grimy make-up, an absolutely delicious psychotic who is dark, and yet still retains that gruesome, humorous quality. This Joker will be, I think, remembered as one of the great villains, along with Darth Vader and Michael Corleone. No one will ever think of a magic trick with a pencil the same again.

There are flaws in the film. Some of the technology was not as believable for me. There are a few monologues, especially the last scene, which feel contrived. In true comic book vein, there is an endless supply of henchmen that Bats must fight at every turn. And as a Batman fan, I really don’t know if I feel the Two-face story arc received the attention it deserves.[9] But they are few, and they are hardly noticeable. Nolan’s direction is smooth and tight. The story is well-conceived. The acting is believable. For me, I need to see the movie again. I don’t know that I will really know how I feel about it until the DVD comes out and I can watch about five more times. But this I do know: this truly is a new height in the Batman franchise.

4.92/5

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[1] Unless we were to count Shyamalan’s brilliant film Unbreakable as a superhero movie.

[2] I mean really, who cares which Godfather is better; they belong together. They are masterpieces that need not be compared but appreciated as two parts of a whole.

[3] Well, maybe. We must, of course, consider the scene in the hospital room.

[4] Indeed, if there is a polar opposite, I might think it the Joker with Harvey Dent – although, of course, this polarity must take a nasty turn.

[5] His continually changing story of how he got his scars was brilliant indeed, and may have even been a nod to Timm and Dini, whose own Joker also has a chameleon-esque background story.

[6] Vis à vis FISA.

[7] “Starting tonight…people will die…I’m a man of my weeerrrd.”

[8] That’s the one with the famous line, “I’m mad as hell, and I’m not going to take it anymore!”

[9] Unless (KIND OF A SPOILER) something changes concerning that story in the sequel; which is not too hard to conceive – I think there is more than meets the eye in the end of the film.