Out of Focus

(This post began as a continuation of the previous one, hence the oh-so-eloquent flow, or rather, the reference to something not included in this same entry.)

It shouldn’t actually come as much of a surprise that the best film so far critiquing the current state of the world and particularly our country’s involvement in the Middle East has nothing to do with Iraq, Iran, Lebanon, Syria, Israel or the Palestinians and is not directed by some American left-wing liberal. In fact, part of the reason that The Host (which screened last weekend and Magnolia Pictures will distribute some time later this year) is such a good analysis of this international state of affairs is because while not being subtle in the least, the film’s story and soul focuses not on some larger incident but rather on the experiences and reactions of one family at the heart of it all.

In this way, The Host is quite similar to Pan’s Labyrinth. In addition to creating an emotional and humanistic tale at the center of a politically themed argument, Bong Joon-ho’s film also places a young girl at the center, in a hero’s role, trying to fight tremendous forces that are actually beyond her or anyone’s control. But shared on an even deeper and more thematic level is this statement of not blindly following authority, of thoughtfulness, of questioning everything, even those things that scare us, particularly in the form of a government.

The Host begins in a South Korean lab where an American military scientist orders his Korean assistant to pour a ridiculously large amount of toxic chemicals down the drain in the sink simply because the bottles are dusty. The assistant argues that this drain leads to the Han River, a major tributary running through the center of Seoul, but his boss doesn’t care, and down the drain the bottles go. Two years later, a couple locals fishing in the Han see a small creature unlike any fish they’ve ever seen. They catch it, but when it scares them, it escapes. Four years later, we meet the Park family – patriach and food kiosk owner Hie-bong (Byeon Hie-bong), his lazy, slacker son Gang-du (Song Kang-ho), and Gang-du’s smart, older-than-her-years daughter Hyun-seo (Ko A-sung). While people are enjoying a sunny Seoul day outside, the Parks watch Gang-du’s sister Nam-joo (Bae Doo-na) compete on TV – she’s a champion archer. The pleasant day is interrupted, however, when people start to eye something weird hanging from a bridge and then diving into the water. This something winds up being a mutated monster which can also hop up on land, swatting people around and eating them at will. When Gang-du carelessly loses his daughter in the chaos, he sees that the monster has capture her, and with the help of his family — which also includes college graduate and alcoholic Nam-il (Park Hae-il) – he’s determined to get her back.

Continue reading “NY FILM FESTIVAL: THE HOST — MUCH MORE THAN JUST A MONSTER MOVIE”

(This post began as a continuation of the previous one, hence the oh-so-eloquent flow, or rather, the reference to something not included in this same entry.)

Even as difficult as it is for me to say that I liked or disliked Inland Empire, it is quite simple for me to shout hosannas expressing my immense love for and awe in both Korean director Bong Joon-ho’s phenomenal The Host and Guillermo del Toro’s post-Spanish Civil War fantasy fable Pan’s Labyrinth, which screens this Sunday evening as the NYFF’s closing night film and Picturehouse will release in theaters on Dec. 29. Del Toro is best known to American audiences as the man behind Hellboy and Blade II. I didn’t love either of those, but at least they helped me forget the god-awful Mimic. None of those films, however, prepared me for his much smaller but more emotional and interesting The Devil’s Backbone, which I only finally saw recently. And yet, none of his work at all has come close to the major achievement of Pan’s Labyrinth.

Told through the eyes of 11 year old Ofelia (Ivana Baquero), del Toro’s film puts a gleam in the eye while touching the soul. Although the story takes place against the backdrop of a very specific period of history — near the end of World War II as Spanish revolutionaries continue to try to fight against Franco’s fascist regime even though the Spanish Civil War “officially” ended five years earlier — the themes themselves are universal. Innocence and thoughtful disobedience are the subjects with which del Toro concerns himself and us, and he does so by taking us into a world (or multiple worlds, in fact) that are simultaneously enchanting and horrific, exciting and monstrous. Not unlike Lynch’s fluid shiftings of realities, Pan’s Labyrinth presents us with a real world and a fantastic one only seen and experienced by Ofelia. As the story continues, these two realms begin to intersect more and more, but even when they converge completely for Ofelia in the end, they still remain separate for the rest of us.

Continue reading “NY FILM FESTIVAL: PAN’S LABYRINTH — MAGICAL REALISM MIXED WITH RATIONAL FANTASY FOR A MAGNIFICENT CONCOCTION AND ONE OF THE BEST FILMS OF THE YEAR”

I still don’t believe I can write much about David Lynch’s Inland Empire, a nearly three-hour long smorgasbord of image and sound that to the linear-minded will prove completely incomprehensible. Any semblance of conventional storytelling or character development has been thrown not just out the window, but from the 90th story of a really tall building, bouncing off the street before being run over by a truck, dragged to the river, flung into the water, getting caught on some sort of mutated toxic life form before being ripped apart by an even larger sea monster. And yet, as Lynch delves deeper into his recent thematic exploration of shifting realities and uncertain identities, all housed within the metaphorical image of infinite reflection represented by his repeated settings of films within films within “normal” life within films, the “wha????” experienced from watching Inland Empire is far less one of confusion than fascination. Layered on top of these ideas he’s been exploring as far back as in Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me and continuing through Lost Highway and Mulholland Drive, Inland Empire turns Lynch’s eye inward, playing even more with these shifts while also specifically exploring and referencing the journey Lynch himself has taken to arrive at this point in his career. More than any other film that comes to mind in recent history, Inland Empire deserves and requires multiple viewings before any true and valid opinion regarding its artistry, form and content can even begin to be explored. A rush to call Inward Empire either a masterpiece or a disaster is quite impossible, regardless of the enjoyment or suffering one experiences during a first viewing. Its lengthy run time is both a blessing and a curse. I am one of the most time-sensitive film viewers I know, and yet I’ve seen plenty of 100 minute films that felt much longer than Lynch’s near three hours. The run time is necessary: Lynch needs to keep his audience captive for this extended period to even begin the process of letting his work seep in; but on the other hand, when bombarded with so much information over such a long period of time, is it even possible to accept and retain it all?

I hope I have the chance to see Inland Empire again, maybe more than once. As of last week’s screenings, there was still not a distributor for the film, however during a press conference when asked if the film had distribution, Lynch responded, “Technically, no.” Since then I’ve read it would be Magnolia Pictures and then that it wouldn’t be Magnolia but rather Lynch would distribute it on its own. But if anybody out there is currently working on a Cinema Studies Ph.D and needs a dissertation project that could probably sell as a book deal, I’d get going on rewatching the entire Lynch canon and settling in for multiple viewings of Inland Empire. Now there’s a book I’d pre-order.

If you pick-up the St. Martin’s Griffin edition of Tom Perrotta’s novel “Little Children”, you’ll find that the very last page contains a “Reading Group Guide.” The very first suggested discussion topic reads as follows:

Is Little Children an appropriate or deceptive title for this novel? Can you think of the different ways the phrase is employed within the book? To which characters does it best apply? In the end, is the title simply descriptive, or does it work on multiple levels?”

The page contains seven other topics or sets of questions relating to other elements of the stories and characters Perrotta (who also wrote the novel upon which Alexander Payne’s great film Election) created and wove together in entertaining, dramatic, humorous and thoughtful fashion in his book. Upon reflection, it seems that when Perrotta got together with filmmaker Todd Field to adapt his book into a screenplay (the novelist shares screenwriting credit), the tow of them forgot to move beyond that one topic. In some ways, this isn’t a terrible problem: the resulting film — which premiered recently at the Toronto Film Festival, played the 44th New York Film Festival this past weekend, and opens nationwide on Friday — is a fantastic example of decent filmmaking. A story somewhat well-told, thoroughly identifiable (at least for certain age groups and segments of the population) and, on the surface at least, competently made. But once one gets beyond the appealing cast, the straightforward plot elements and the easy answers to that first discussion topic, the flaws begin to appear, and if one goes a step further to actually examine the source material, it’s not hard to see how, as a literary adaptation, Little Children, this film, is just short of a total failure, done in by an apparent misunderstanding of the necessary synchronizing of story and character without making one subservient to the other.

Continue reading “NY FILM FESTIVAL: LITTLE CHILDREN — PROVING THAT AN UNSUCCESSFUL ADAPTATION CAN STILL BE A MILDLY SUCCESSFUL FILM”