He wrote me from...

There's a lot going on over here at good old Tite Times, which includes but is not limited to moving into a new apartment this week, starting a new (real) job, getting a pseudo part time film reviewer job (more on that later when it happens), and so on.

In the meantime, enjoy a new favorite music video of mine, one which for some silly reason I had never seen until this week.

Yo La Tengo, "Sugarcube" (featuring Bob Odenkirk, David Cross, and John Ennis)

The Abyss (1989)

The Abyss (1989)
Written and Directed by James Cameron

In the wake of his smash hits The Terminator and Aliens, James Cameron wrote, directed, crashed, and burned with this bloated sci-fi epic. I had the displeasure of viewing this film last night for the first time in probably 10 years, though this was my first time seeing the obnoxiously long 171-minute special edition version. The story is relatively simple, as a group of American soldiers and underwater oil rig workers investigate a sunken submarine at the bottom of the ocean. The film then unfolds sluggishly through territories well explored in the history of cinema, and Cameron makes sure he hits every unnecessary and trite direction possible. Despite some actually spectacular action/fx sequences that heat up in the second act, Cameron drowns the third act with somewhere around three to four separate climaxes, and for his finale employs unforgivably sappy left-wing ideology with a child's vision of solving the world's problems. Ed Harris was reportedly to have said he would never work with Cameron again after the filming of this movie: I wouldn't either, because it stinks like a big piece of shit.

***If this film has one saving grace it's everyone's favorite bad actor Michael Biehn, playing the wigged out Navy Seal who turns his back on everyone***

[171 minutes. Color. In English. PG-13.]

Superbad (2007)

Superbad (2007)
Directed by Greg Mottola
Written by Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg

The latest feature from the Judd Apatow factory of comedy, Superbad is a movie about getting drunk, trying to get laid, and the inevitability of losing friends after high school. The latter gets the least amount of screen time, while the former gets treated with D-Day-esque importance, which allows for the film's juvenile fantasy to play out in the most riotous way possible. Starring the reigning king of awkwardness Michael Cera, and archetypal fat, ugly stoner Jonah Hill as the two best friends who finally get their chance to go to a cool party and possibly score big, Superbad manages its fair share of potty mouth induced belly laughs. Christopher Mintz-Plasse stars as Fogell (aka McLovin), the dorkiest of dorks, and Apatow and company apparently discovered him on YouTube. Only with writer Seth Rogen and SNL-regular Bill Hader making an appearance as local police officers does this film lose it's true charm -- the cops are crazier and more ridiculous than anyone else in the film (hogging the spotlight, a bit). It rubbed me the wrong way, but Rogen and Hader are well known and established funnymen, making their joyriding with McLovin still pretty enjoyable. The real gold however, is the performances of Hill and Cera who consistently hit the right comedic notes (yet I worry that Cera's 5-year run using the same comedy style (read: 1 note) might run its course sooner than later. Hopefully not.) Time will tell if Superbad holds up as important and funny of a high school comedy as Fast Times or Dazed and Confused, but it beats the shit out of American Pie and every other high school comedy since then.

[114 minutes. Color. In English. Rated R.]

Sweetie (1989)

Sweetie (1989)
Directed by Jane Campion
Written by Jane Campion and Gerard Lee

Though she will most likely be remembered for the ultra successful, award winning drama The Piano, Jane Campion made her auspicious feature film debut with Sweetie, a black comedy about two sisters and their destructive relationship within a dysfunctional family. The film starts with wide-eyed neurotic Kay, who falls in love with Louis (Tom Lycos) after going to see a fortune teller. Later, their relationship begins to decay because he attempts to plant a tree in their backyard. It is at is seems -- Kay isn't the most emotionally stable or developed, and things get even more complicated when her emotionally infantile, slobby sister Dawn/Sweetie (Genevieve Lemon) shows up at their doorstep. The two sisters lock into an endless, childish struggle, and when the rest of the family gets involved it becomes clear as to the dangerous emotional effect Sweetie's suspected mental illness has had on the family (especially the sadly delusional, possibly incestuous father).

Campion, with cinematographer Sally Bongers, manage to create a richly textured world of fantasy within the scope of everyday objects and settings. Employing peculiar framing, carefully crafted camera movements, with surrealism and color saturated sets and costume design, Campion poetically intertwines her unique visual style with an engaging and equally disquieting script. The precise direction of Campion not only makes the film impressive to look at, but the unorthodox nature of the story and the simultaneously enchanting and horrifying work of the actors (particularly Lemon) makes Sweetie as close as a film can get to being a complete, fluid work.

This Week: Godard's "Pierrot le Fou" (1965)

Playing in Chicago this week at the Music Box. Go see it. From the Reader:

"I wanted to tell the story of the last romantic couple," Jean-Luc Godard said of this brilliant, all-over-the-place adventure and meditation about two lovers on the run (Jean-Paul Belmondo and Anna Karina). Made in 1965, this film, with its ravishing colors and beautiful 'Scope camerawork by Raoul Coutard, still looks as iconoclastic and fresh as it did when it belatedly opened in the U.S. Godard's misogynistic view of women as the ultimate betrayers is integral to the romanticism in much of his 60s work--and perhaps never more so than here--but Karina's charisma makes this pretty easy to ignore most of the time. The movie's frequent shifts in style, emotion, and narrative are both challenging and intoxicating: American director Samuel Fuller turns up at a party scene to offer his definition of cinema, Karina performs two memorable songs in musical-comedy fashion, Belmondo's character quotes copiously from his reading, and a fair number of red and blue cars are stolen and destroyed. In French with subtitles. 110 min. -Jonathan Rosenbaum

Rififi (1955)

Rififi (aka Du rififi chez les hommes, 1955)
Directed by Jules Dassin
Written by Jules Dassin, Rene Wheeler, Auguste Le Breton
Based on the Novel by Augeste Le Breton

After a seven year prison stint for robbery, hardened old timer Tony (Jean Servais) meets up with his former colleagues only to decline a bank robbery job. Upon finding his former girl (Marie Sabouret) shacked up with a sleazy night club owner (Pierre Grasset), Tony re-joins his gang to pull off a heist at a nearby, highly secured jewelery shop. What follows is non-stop action, bringing in all the quintessential elements of the crime/heist genre: dishonor among thieves, double crosses, backstabbing, murder, theft, kidnapping, and vengeance.

Blacklisted American director Jules Dassin directed this crime thriller adaptation while living in exile in France. Having directed a string of successful crime films in America in the late 1940s (Thieves' Highway, Brute Force, The Naked City, Night and the City), the material was nothing new to Dassin -- though Rififi marks a step forward in structure and style with a simultaneous step backwards in themes. That's not to say the film avoids moral issues all together, as Dassin specifically deals with the blacklist backlash, playing one of the criminals himself -- meeting his bloody, violent demise after ratting out his colleagues. Never the less, Rififi remains a landmark crime film, most well known and appreciated for the thirty minute, no-dialogue, no-music heist scene which is a brilliant exercise in tension, sound, paranoia, and professionalism.

[115 minutes. B&W. In French/Italian with English Subtitles.]

Killer of Sheep (2007)

Killer of Sheep (2007)
Written and Directed by Charles Burnett

The often overlooked and under appreciated Charles Burnett made this gritty, neo-realist masterpiece as his Masters thesis film at UCLA in the late 70s, though the film never enjoyed a theatrical run until now. Despite being named one of the 100 Essential Films of all time by the National Society of Film Critics in 1990 (and placed in the Library of Congress' Film Registry), Killer of Sheep had been unreleasable for the past thirty years due to the twenty-odd songs used for the soundtrack of the film (which includes Dinah Washington, Paul Robeson, Louis Armstrong, Earth, Wind and Fire, etc.). Recently restored by the UCLA Film & Television Archive and Milestone films (in addition to a contribution from Steven Soderbergh), they also paid around $150,000 for the soundtrack licenses.

In many ways, the wait was worth it -- Killer of Sheep is no doubt a masterpiece, a rare gem in American cinema that examines the life of African-Americans in the Watts ghetto in the late 1970s. Burnett loosely pieces together scenes (some call them 'vignettes', though the scenes are a bit more connected) centered around Stan (Henry Gayle Sanders), a slaughter-house worker. His long work hours seem to have little affect how he and his family lives, although he would be the first one to tell you he's not poor ("I donate stuff to the Salvation Army" he says). With no discernible plot, the film builds scene upon scene, making nothing into something: a hauntingly sad portrait of everyday life in the ghetto, a life that Stan can't seem to escape even if he tried. Together with the soundtrack, Burnett juxtaposes life in the ghetto with a sort of history of African-American music, creating a beautiful, humorous, and sad world of futility. Killer of Sheep is unlike many American films, especially those of the 1970s -- the film is much more closely connected to the neo-realist works of De Sica and Rossellini, though his knack for dry humor and music set him apart (and more American) from the latter. Made for around $10,000 and shot on weekends using non-professional actors, Killer of Sheep is perhaps the most powerful film you'll see this year even though it was made over thirty years ago.

[81 minutes. B&W. In English]

***Killer of Sheep is enjoying an extended run at the Music Box, so check it out before it goes away, you might never have the chance again.

http://www.killerofsheep.com/

Broken English (2007)

Broken English (2007)
Written and Directed by Zoe Cassavetes

Zoe Cassavetes makes her directorial debut in this "indie" romantic comedy starring Parker Posey. Zoe is the daughter of famous actor and independent film pioneer John Cassavetes, and while it seems unfair to try and compare them, it is strikingly peculiar that there is little of the "Cassavetes" feel in this film. That however, is the least of its problems.

The film stars Parker Posey as a loveless thirtysomething in New York City, who continually gets involved with "bad" guys, including a narcissistic, moronic actor (Justin Theroux) and a still heart-broken mope (Josh Hamilton). Eventually, she meets an attractive and sensitive Frenchman, but of course, pushes him away because of her "insecurities". God, I even feel silly attempting to describe the plot. Broken English is so full of cliches, stereotypes, and mushy platitudes that it's hard to muster up the strength to turn away from the Houston Astros/Chicago Cubs game right now. The script is so inconsistent that it gives the always entertaining Parker Posey little room to display her talent -- her offbeat, unique humor comes through in the first act, but disappears quickly and returns only in flashes for the rest of the film. Cassavetes and the film spends the rest of the time sleepwalking through Dr. Phil-esque self-realizations and predictable plot twists. This film is a copy of a copy of a copy of a copy, and I say that in the most degrading, negative way possible. It's a shame to see such a talent like Posey to go to waste in sappy filth like this. Someone check Zoe's DNA.

[97 minutes. Rated PG-13. In English]

Sunshine (2007)

Sunshine (2007)
Directed by Danny Boyle
Written by Alex Garland

Apparently sometime in the future, the sun will start to die. In attempt to save the world, a crew consisting of young attractive white Americans, a few Asian-Americans, and an Indian-American psychologist will make the second trip to the sun -- with intention of shooting a gigantic bomb into it in hopes of creating a star within a star. If I wasn't scientifically inept I would try and explain more, though I can tell you that it's a pretty awesome idea (also something the folks at CERN are currently trying to figure out as well). But that is not my place -- my place is to tell you what is right and what is wrong with the latest film from English heavyweight Danny Boyle (Trainspotting, 28 Days Later). Re-teaming with the 28 Days Later crew, including writer Alex Garland and producer Andrew MacDonald, Boyle has managed to create two-thirds of a possibly great film.

In theory, the faults of Sunshine are in no way the work of Boyle, who has established himself as an always interesting (at least visually) director over the past decade. His visual flair has been there from day one (Shallow Grave), and Sunshine is no exception -- this is a beautifully shot and constructed film, which combined with some modest special effects prove particularly interesting (especially in the psychedelic, I'm looking right at the sun way). Boyle, as competent as ever, also continues his love-affair with electronica group Underworld, who composed much of the impressive ambient/techno score which was more than enjoyable. For at least two thirds of the film, Sunshine is engaging -- it weaves in and out of varying sci-fi styles, and one hopes that it settles in -- unfortunately it never does. Granted Andrei Tarkovsky and Stanley Kubrick have covered almost all there is to cover metaphysically when it comes to space, Sunshine only slightly explores it's most interesting aspect: seeing/experiencing closeness to the sun as metaphor for God/Heaven/Death/Immortality.

Unfortunately, it seems Alex Garland held his How-To-Write-Dramatically-For-The-Screen book a bit to close this time around. The kick-ass visual aesthetic and score are helped very little by Garland's script, which at times is nothing short of brilliant, but ultimately resorts to the most pathetic and predictable usage of cliched characters / sci-fi archetypes. Sadly, Sunshine had a chance to be something special, a sort of chaotic mixture of all the sci-fi cinema that has come before it, but it's third act burns out faster than the dying sun of the not-so-near-future (oh damn!). Worth a look, but don't be surprised if you leave just a bit disappointed.

[In English. 107 minutes. Rated R.]

Moving Images, Moving On

A lot has happened since my last update. Two of cinema's greats, Ingmar Bergman and Michelangelo Antonioni have passed away, the MLB trade deadline came and went (way to go White Sox), and I spent a week in San Luis Obispo, California, having lots of tite times. It's been a sweltering hot summer, though productivity has been pretty good. All the tite times have a price though, such as my lack of summer writing. Hence, moving on. For the sake of letting the past be the past, what I've been watching:

Bukowski: Born Into This (John Dullaghan, 2003) -- Drinking, writing, drinking writing. Formulaic documentary made up mostly of footage from another documentary already made about Bukowski. Luckily for first time filmmaker Dullaghan, he chose an interesting subject -- Bukowski's tortured, alcoholic soul is always engaging even when he comes off as a misogynistic hack.

Blue (Krzysztof Kieslowski, 1993) -- First of his Three Colors trilogy, Kieslowski poses the question: is it possible for a woman (or person for that matter) in contemporary society to put everything behind her and start anew? The result is ambiguously depressing and uplifting, though the hypnotic beauty of the visuals and Juliette Binoche's powerful performance is more than enough to convince me of anything.

In the Mood For Love (Wong Kar Wai, 2000) -- Hong Kong heavyweight Wong Kar Wai toned it down for this small film about a love story that never happens. Pretty to look at, but Wong's masturbation through use of repetition is aggravating.

Forty Guns (Sam Fuller, 1957) -- Fuller at his cigar chomping finest. If there ever was an argument for the king of pulp, here it is.

The Simpsons Movie (David Silverman, 2007) -- Of course it's funny, and of course it can't live up to over a decade's worth of priceless satire. See it, for there won't be many more entertaining movies this year like this one.

Mr. Jealousy (Noah Baumbach, 1997) -- Made in between two supremely better films (Kicking & Screaming, The Squid and the Whale), Mr. Jealousy is Baumbach trying to be something he's not. The results are mixed. The comedy is spot on (Jacot and Eigeman deliever as usual), but the shameless homages to Truffaut, Lubistch, et al. are tiresome. Plus, Eric Stoltz could never get women that hot.

My Night At Maud's (Eric Rohmer, 1970) -- One of Rohmer's six moral tales, and not for the short-attention span crowd. The "devout" "catholic" lead as played by Jean-Louis Trintignant is engaging in that confused, tortured way, which moves this nice little movie along when Rohmer gets a bit too wordy.

Ace in the Hole (Billy Wilder, 1951) -- This is what it looks like when Billy Wilder says fuck you to the world. This is also what it looks like when Kirk Douglas unleashes the venom of a viking warrior in the world of small town journalism. This is what an awesome movie looks like, and no it's not funny, and no, it does not star Jack Lemmon.

Time Indefinite (Ross McElwee, 1993) -- The pondering southern gentleman followed up his now-classic Sherman's March with another diary-documentary, this time leaving the women of the south behind for the confusing world of marriage, life, and death. Drags a bit in the middle, but McElwee has an irresitable charm.

Six O'Clock News (Ross McElwee, 1996) -- The charm wears a bit thin in this film, McElwee's examination and worried-father look at news, violence, and disaster. A bit more unfocused than some of his other (better) films.

Bright Leaves (Ross McElwee, 2003) -- The second best of McElwee's autobiographical diary narratives. This film has something to do with the tobacco industry, but McElwee takes his stance as the anti-Michael Moore -- McElwee is not out to muckrake or to promote any sort of political stance, he's simply trying to make sense of a world in which his complex lineage might be traced to a fictional adaptation of his grandfather's life in a Hollywood movie starring Gary Cooper about the rise of the Duke family, Bull Durham tobacco, and lost fortunes. It sounds confusing, but it's not -- probably his most complete and organized film to date, and it totally pays off.