Star Trek Into Darkness, dir. J. J. Abrams (2013)

In a succinct manner, the latest instalment in the beloved Star Trek franchise can be described as being a sentient and action-packed blockbuster that’s more or less thrilling for its duration, and even more so for longtime Trekkies. Not being one of them, I can attest to its resonance with fans because of how they laughed harder, cried longer, and cheered louder, while the rest of us (read: just me) were seemingly out of place. However, that isn’t to say the film doesn’t evoke the same experience for virgins to the series; the movie balances lighthearted humour, plentiful edge-of-your-seat action, sentimental drama, and extensive character dynamics/developments (though at the expense of a tedious beginning). It also manages to be provocative in raising moral questions about honour, loyalty, and personhood, with a moving dedication in the end credits made by the filmmakers.

As a seasoned director in the genre of ‘summer blockbusters/action films/shows’, J. J. Abrams exhibits skillful direction of the camera in many fast paced sequences, and the grand scale of some scenes left me in awe. I found myself amazed at how destruction and disaster through cinematic production could so effectively instill fear and produce such profusely sweaty palms.

Into Darkness is not an infallible movie—for all the consistent surprises, especially in the last quarter of the film, there are a few blundering predictable executions that don’t require any mention here, for you’ll foresee them when you see the movie—but it is certainly one of the better releases I’ve seen this year so far. 

FILMS IN 2013 for quick reviews and ratings of films, as I watch them!

The Great Gatsby, dir. Baz Luhrmann (2013)

Gatsby? What Gatsby?

By now most adult Americans, if not most of the literate population, will have heard something about the cherished novel by Mr. F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby; an emblem of the roaring twenties; an acclaimed timeless capsule of wealth, booze, parties, and romance, none greater than those within the pages of the book. While Baz Luhrmann irrefutably captures the class and jazz of the era in spectacular fashion (and I do mean absolutely gorgeous cinematography and costuming), the uneven narrative adaptation only mediocrely translates into a cinematic effort.

One of the film’s most astonishing flaws is how it manages to simultaneously follow faithfully to its source material and incorporate a bit of creative freedom, yet fail at both aspects. The newly fabricated wraparound story of Nick Carraway in a mental ward, with his omniscient narration throughout the film, left none of the good subtleties and symbolisms implied. Then, when following the passages word for word, the director failed to titillate and imbue a new excitement into the realization of those printed words (sadly, at many points sentences were merely displayed as they were spoken, as if to evoke something the actors couldn’t (what exactly, I’m not sure, because the actors proved more than capable)).

Deviating away from the fact that’s its based on literature (as most films are nowadays), the movie still has its fair share of technical shortcomings. Starting with the redundancy of its 3D technology. Beginnings and end credits is all 3D seems useful for—though this criticism is trite, so I’ll leave it at that. Next, is Jay-Z’s soundtrack. At times, lyrically resonant and wonderfully fitting, on the other hand I also found it jarring, out of context, and overwhelming, especially once tracks were so blatantly being reused, as if to diminish its presence in its preceding scenes. I honestly admit that the production of the soundtrack is great to listen to (Young and Beautiful alone is Oscar-worthy), but only as a conceptual album in the same vein as what The Hunger Games achieved with their compilation. It is in my opinion that using the records on the album as the soundtrack, instead of opting for a separate instrumental one, was a grave mistake. But of course, it is probably keeping in part to Luhrmann’s artistic vision. 

What I can safely praise are the talents of the actors, and the work of the costume and set designers, who may very well earn accolades once awards season arrives. Although Leonardo DiCaprio’s role presumably won’t nab any critical attention (not because of his unfortunate streak, but because his performance here simply doesn’t standout), Carey Mulligan’s delicate and alluring portrayal of Daisy Buchanan is one that controls and demands the captivation of the audience (as she does with her men). Nevertheless, the film’s immediate beauty, though enthralling and lovely to stare at, is wasted on a remake that is seemingly vacuous and insipid—a sort of representation of the characters, I suppose.

The final scene of The Great Gatsby is maybe an ironic summation of Luhrmann’s attempt to modernize Gatsby: as Carraway handwrites ‘The Great’ to his ‘Gatsby’ cover page, the penmanship is messy and the two e’s are written differently. It’s an analogy for half of the film as a refined printed title, the other half as an inconsistent and sometimes boring clutter.

FILMS IN 2013 for quick reviews and ratings of films, as I watch them!

Evil Dead, dir. Fede Alvarez (2013)

Ah, how great it feels to return to the comfort of the illuminating theatre. Since the new year, I’ve been four months abstinent of the cinema screen, for no other reason than because nothing sparked enough interest in me to squeeze out the time in my hectic senior year (although I was by no means deprived of film on the tiny screen—33 movies so far, of which I have documented as I go along). EVIL DEAD, the re-imagining of a cult classic horror film, known for it’s gore and underlying humour, of which I had heard of but never seen, was the earliest releases on my (long) checklist of anticipated films for the year.

To say it was a disappointment is neither an understatement or an overstatement. It’s just about accurate.

Getting right down to the technicalities of EVIL DEAD, one of its significant flaws is its screenplay. Its bland, disconnected characters build an emotional barrier between themselves and the audience. It’s the same case for many mediocre attempts at horror, and generally any film that fails to leave an impression. As an adolescent of the technological era, who has seen his fair share of bloodbath and sadistic carnage, it takes more than a simple fallen arm to truly ‘scare’. The film is quite simply not terrifying or funny, and that’s rooted in that fact that development nearly ceases to exist, and what are supposed to be hackneyed, archetypal characters are neither fully realized nor completely averted. The additional characters seem meant to induce death scenes more than anything. If the viewer doesn’t care about the people’s suffering, it’s not so difficult anymore for us to sit there and just watch them die off one by one, maybe even roll our eyes. On the contrary, if you want something truly horrifying: take a glimpse at Kevin Ware’s injury and I dare you to look at it for more than 10 seconds. Whether it’s the context of the situation or merely because it’s reality; Ware’s excruciating pain can be felt and that somehow makes it infinitely more scary than any part of this film.

After the title card appears, Alvarez shoots right away into a breathtaking vantage that has the camera upside down. His direction throughout the film should be lauded for its uneasy and atmospheric establishment, as well as his jumpy editing; but then again, its unbearable dimness at certain points renders the audience blind to action that the director may or may not have wanted us to witness. And going right back to its greatest fault, the script is way too direct right at the start, feeling immensely unnatural and for lack of a better term, ‘scripted’. All this throws away any acting efforts made by the wonderful Jane Levy, who is the only capable actor here, but does have substance to work off of by the end.

The soundtrack by Roque Baños is overbearing for almost the entire first 20 minutes of the film, which leads to a disenchanting and almost distracting awareness of watching a movie. I don’t mean to nitpick every detail, but it was so blatant that the odd moment stuck with me til the very end. 

EVIL DEAD, however, does redeem itself near the end, but does not entirely save itself. The dialogue between the brother and sister is honest at the very least, and suddenly even the slightest shave of Levy’s meat is cringeworthy. What ends up happening in the last 10-15 minutes is a dramatic, suspenseful, and most of all, more rousing fight for survival, that may be the only memorable scene out of the entire 90 minute duration.

While this may be a fresh nod and homage to a widely admired 1980’s classic, EVIL DEAD is not as enticing as it could’ve been for new viewers, especially given the camp humour I certainly saw in the trailer. Alvarez failed to translate Levy’s menacing Deadite into a polished narrative that was worthwhile. 

SICK: The Life and Death of Bob Flanagan, Supermasochist, dir. Kirby Dick (1997)

Bob Flanagan was born with cystic fibrosis. His prognosis was that he would only have 6 or 7 years to live. He lived until he was 43. Bob claimed that’s how every article written about him began. Except for the last sentence. Sick chronicles the artist and self proclaimed supermasochist’s last few years, right up to his tragic death, through open interviews with himself and family members, personal footage of his work, and following him intimately as he exhibits excruciating masochistic performances for the art of sex and to question the very notion of sex and sexuality. The entire documentary is an uncensored lens into the world of S&M, but through the irreverent and candid humour, music, poetry, and all around art of Bob Flanagan. Throughout his life, his lungs were filled with mucus that debilitated his quality of life and put him constantly in pain. As a teenager he began experimenting with a new form of pain—one that he could control. He became increasingly masochistic and in many of his later documented performances, he submits his body to graphic tortures that give him sexual gratification. For once in his life, he could control his body and disprove in the face of his disability that he could endure and was stronger than his weakness. The stigma that disordered people are weaker truly does not apply to this man.

Like 2012’s endearing film, The Sessions, Sick reminds us of the prevalence of human nature in sex, sexuality and sexual discoveries in life, at any age. However, Sick focuses on a man whose work reassesses the normalcy of sexual practice, and just when we’re comfortable with sex in itself, how can we come to terms with the pains and seemingly malice of sadomasochism and masochism? What parts of our childhood inspire our sexual exploration? His mother asks herself where she was when he was going through all of these experimentations. Sometimes people, particularly teens, are afraid of sex, masturbation, and nudity—sex on film, sex in music, sex in writing, any reference to sex in general. We’re indoctrinated to believe it’s morally wrong. Bob Flanagan’s work is less about the shock value of his gruesome display or to subvert any religion, but more about taking control of our bodies and exploring what we find pleasure in, sexually or mentally/spiritually, and being unafraid of our bodies, whether abled or disabled and regardless of our sexuality. These are understandably personal matters, but like any artist, Bob’s work is an open heart surgery, always. He’s affable and comedic when he’s counselling other young CF sufferers, and even when he’s speaking openly about his sex life at an S&M gathering, sometimes stripped down to nothing. He’s comfortable with people watching as he’s hung upside down nude, while in another room 7 monitors are replaying his sexual gratifications on 7 different parts of his body. One women is absolutely disgusted, while other art enthusiasts continue to probe and interview him about his work. It certainly is baffling to make up one’s mind on what this all might mean.

However, in some of the more private footage filmed by Bob’s partner Sheree Rose, Bob is much more troubled. His sickness has weakened him, making him choleric to Rose’s constant propositions. While usually making light of his morbid situation, Bob grows increasingly more depressed about his survival. Even after piercing himself, nailing himself, stretching and cutting all over himself, he reminds us he is still wholly human.

By the end of the documentary, you still might find yourself asking why he went through all of this, why anyone would enjoy S&M, or maybe why/how we should come to accept something that seems so foreign and absurd to ourselves. Bob Flanagan recites a poem entitled, “Why” and while it’s quite lengthy, it is self-explanatory.

Why
Because it feels good;
because it gives me an erection;
because it makes me cum;
because I’m sick;
because there was so much sickness;
because I say FUCK THE SICKNESS;
because I like the attention;
because I was alone a lot;
because I was different;
because kids beat me up on the way to school;

[…]

because of what’s inside me;
because of my genes;
because of my parents;
because of doctors and nurses;
because they tied me to the crib so I wouldn’t hurt myself;
because I had time to think;
because I had time to hold my penis;
because I had awful stomachaches and holding my penis made it feel better;
because I felt like I was going to die;
because it makes me feel invincible;

The whole poem is worth reading and even better to hear him recite. The film maybe doesn’t warrant a viewing, especially if you’re easily disturbed by explicit images, but the concept and notion of Bob Flanagan’s work is revelatory, especially in an age where we’re bombarded with mindless sex and violence, and yet have no tools to critically understand and nurture our own sexuality and understanding of ourselves. 

As Vincent Cassel tells Natalie Portman in Black Swan, go home and touch yourself. Or don’t. No matter what, take control of the one body you’ve been given, and learn to love it, no matter what that entails.

FILMS IN 2013 for quick reviews and ratings of films, as I watch them.