Foreign

The Crime of Monsieur Lange Review

February 29, 2016 by JD Hansel

I certainly don’t know French cinema well – at all – but the name Jean Renoir did sound familiar, most likely because he’s a very important figure in the history of cinema. Being the globally-ignorant American teenager that I am, it’s hard for me to tell just what it was about Renoir that made him so unique or important. That being said, I was pleased by the one film of his that I’ve seen, The Crime of Monsieur Lange. Sadly, however, I would have to classify this film by a new term I’ve finally invented – tederesting – a combination of tedious and interesting. This describes a work of art that has many elements that peak the viewer’s interest, make the viewer curious, or impress the viewer just enough that he/she is willing to put up with how tedious or boring many elements of it are, and I think this new word is exemplified quite well by this movie.

If I may, I’ll go ahead and spoil the big twist in the movie, largely because it’s very predictable anyway. An evil businessman is reported dead, and the people in his publishing company come together to make ends meet, and while they end up making the company even more successful than before, it looks like their happiness is going to come to an end when it turns out that the businessman is still alive. Apparently, this is supposed to present a strong socialistic message, but I just see it as a standard “greedy man = bad, selfless friends = good” kind of story. Again, I do find the twist predictable, but the way Renoir reveals the twist (multiple times, actually, each retaining its dramatic effect) is certainly masterful. The story doesn’t seem quite focused enough for my tastes, but there are still many elements of it that I like, from the moral questions it brings up, to the perfect portrayal of the villainous Batala, and to the theme of an author becoming the hero he’s written. According the reviews I’ve seen on the internet, this film has a very good pace, but I must have missed that part while I was sleeping. The story simply doesn’t have enough surprising or suspenseful twists and obstacles to fill its already measly 77-minute running time, but that somehow doesn’t keep it from being remarkably fascinating.

The Motorcycle Diaries Review

February 22, 2016 by JD Hansel

I debated about whether or not I would review this film. Keep in mind, I do not (at this time) review documentaries, mostly because I think approaching something that tries to accurately capture real history – or accurately capture a real person’s perspective on his/her history – is perhaps too great a task for me. Assessing historical accuracy has never been my forte, and I I’m not sure how to review a story if that story is an unchangeable matter of fact. Still, this movie is clearly not a documentary – it’s a fascinating “what if” movie that shows what a young, idealistic, quickly-evolving Che Guevara might have been like on his road trip through South America. When viewed as such, it’s really quite fascinating.

This film breaks one of the rules of storytelling in a way, which polarizes the audience in terms of strength, effect, and maybe even aesthetic distance depending on what knowledge of Che the viewer has at the onset. Generally, movies are very focused on set-ups and pay-offs, always making sure that every moment the audience sees will make the following scenes (and/or the previous scenes) more meaningful. This film, however, is designed as a sort of prologue or prequel to the infamy of Che Guevara, so the set-ups for the irony, and arguably for the importance of each scene, are in all in the knowledge that the viewer supposedly has of what Che would become. Fortunately, because I saw this movie in a film class, I was informed of Che’s legacy, controversy, and infamy, so I really enjoyed the movie. However, had I not known who Che is, I would not have been able to enjoy the movie nearly as much – perhaps I would have hated it. While I do think that this is a fun story that succeeds at opening up one’s mind to new ways of looking at history and the world, I must withhold my praise to some extent because the movie works best as a supplement to a separate story that the audience is left to figure out for themselves.

Still, after a tiny bit of research, this is a really different kind of road trip comedy that can be really enjoyable.

Alexander Nevsky Review

February 17, 2016 by JD Hansel

I haven’t reviewed many foreign films yet. I know I’ve done my fair share of British movies, but Amelie and Passion have been my only reviews of films in foreign languages (to my memory). I’m going to change this. I expect to be bouncing around the globe for my next few reviews, and a good way to start a world tour of cinema is with Eisenstein. Seeing as how this man’s work is taught in every film class, I was hoping that Alexander Nevsky, his classic 1938 epic about a war hero in the 1200s, would be a bit more … well, epic.

I’m faced with a serious problem here because this film has brought to the surface a conflict between my ideology and my views on art. It has been my strong opinion for quite some time that a work of art should not be judged by its message alone, but by how well it conveys it. For example, someone might agree with the general message or theme in God’s Not Dead, but he/she should still recognize that it’s a remarkably horrendous piece of angel dung. Similarly, one does not have to be a racist to appreciate D.W. Griffith’s contributions to the cinematic arts as seen in Birth of a Nation. In music, I can appreciate old rock songs that focus on men who don’t seem to be exceptionally respectful towards women. (I should note that I’m not referring to particularly misogynistic songs, but instead songs such as “The Wanderer” or “Lightnin’ Strikes” that take infatuation to a rather uncomfortable level of objectification. However, in all fairness, some songs from this time by female artists – The Chordettes’ “Mr. Sandman,” for example – seem to indicate that this kind of attraction went both ways at the time.) The key thing about song lyrics, however, is to be watchful of songs that are actually character studies, and often consequently period pieces, which are written and performed from the perspective of the character being analyzed and explored (not necessarily the artist’s view).

It only makes sense, then, that I would have to approach Alexander Nevsky with the same stance, focusing on the craft more than the conclusion, but alas, I am unable to appreciate anything about this film because I am so overwhelmed by its disgusting ideology. I have spent much time pondering this, and I think I have realized a few factors that have been at play in my analysis of art. The first factor is the way the film sees itself. This may seem odd, but I think that movies nearly always have a way that they “feel” about their own contents, and while 2001: A Space Odyssey has a very conceited view of itself, Dr. Strangelove clearly thinks that the events it displays are absurd, and it critiques them for such. So, Eisenstein could have made a movie that analyzed the people of the time period objectively (without sharing in their perspective or criticizing them), and he could have made it as a critique of their ways, but instead he played along with their loony nationalism and gave them the operatic choir they desired. Secondly, if a work of art has a serious flaw in its point of view, I can still appreciate it as art if it supplies enough other elements that make me respect it in a different way. “My Sweet Lord” redeems itself, and I therefore greatly appreciate it, but “Anaconda” offers no such merit, and therefore leaves us only with the words to be analyzed.

Lo and behold, there may not be as much contradiction in my views as I had feared. I do think that Eisenstein did put together a work that is quite impressive, but not to the extent that it redeems its dogmatic, propagandic nature. To its credit, it surprised me by taking a sharp turn in the way it handled the awkward (and somewhat sexist) storyline of the men who made a girl choose which of them would be her husband. As it turns out, one of the men decides that he would rather be with a different woman – the one who fought bravely and competently in the battle. This not only gives us a strong, courageous female character to enjoy, but also takes away a touch of the “shallow” feeling in the film’s romantic affairs. Still, the redeeming quality throughout is bravery, and since I am no fan of bravery, I cannot comply to Eisenstein’s persistent demand that I wallow in the imagined elegance of prideful war.

Brazil Review

January 28, 2016 by JD Hansel

SPOILER ALERT

I think I finally understand what happened here! Not what happens in the movie Brazil – I could never understand that – but what happened to Labyrinth and Time Bandits. Some movie buffs and comedy lovers may know that the Monty Python approach to writing movies was generally to come up with different scenes/sketches that would be funny all centered around a general theme, and then a loose story would be created out of stringing the pieces of the movie together. Naturally, when someone who approaches screenwriting this way has the challenge of writing a more traditional narrative story (that’s focused on likable characters dealing with a dramatic plot, even if that drama is not meant to be taken seriously) we can expect issues to arise with the flow of the story. For Labyrinth, Terry Jones’ screenplay had to be doctored in secret by other writers because it needed a lot of work before it could be made into the film Jim wanted (which still had leftover story problems in the end). For Time Bandits, fellow Pythoner Terry Gilliam made a bizarre family film that makes no sense whatsoever, and is often more awkward and convoluted than entertaining. For Brazil, Gilliam made an iconic ’80s movie masterpiece, but it had similar flaws.

Before going any further, I must recognize that this is, in some ways, a brilliant film. As satire, it’s practically perfect in every way, and makes the human race seem hilariously absurd. At some moments, its comedic criticism of war is better than Stanley Kubrick’s. Much of the film is good fun, and the performances are perfect. The world Gilliam created is brilliantly clever, and the visuals are absolutely outstanding. This truly is one of the most beautiful movies I have ever laid eyes upon, as far as visual art is concerned, because the lighting, the colors, the set designs, and the cinematography are all spot-on. It’s a masterful work of art that raises the bar for the genre of comedy films, and I can respect it if people love this movie a heck of a lot more than I do.

I, however, just don’t get it. Every now and again, I encounter a movie that has me saying to myself, “What the heck IS this movie?!” more and more as the film progresses. It’s a very memorable experience, and it usually means that the movie is going to mean a lot to me for a long time, regardless of whether I think of it positively or negatively. This film had that special quality to it like no movie I’ve seen in a long time, if ever, and I can’t help but be reminded of the first time I saw Gremlins 2, one of my favorite films, and the first time I saw 2001: A Space Odyssey, one of my least favorite. As blown away as I was with just how perfect certain elements of the film are, I still couldn’t shake the feeling that the story didn’t make enough sense. Some of that special feeling I mentioned above was coming from a sense of being immensely impressed, but some was coming from being annoyingly confused. I now understand why Roger Ebert only gave Brazil just two stars saying, “This is a confused and unsatisfying film in which the magnitude of the special effects, and the chaotic implications of the plot, make the movie hard work for any audience to follow, let alone appreciate.”

So, my first criticism is that the movie doesn’t make enough sense. What starts off seeming like it offers too little with its minimalist plot (which consists of a man trying to meet the woman he’s seen in his dreams) eventually unravels into a psychedelic acid rock song that’s sad about the loss of friendships and angry with society’s constraints. There is very little correlation between what happens in Sam’s dreams and what he deals with in real life, and this gives the audience too big of a chore when they have to try to find the patterns and the meaning in all this. Heck, even the movie’s title, and its titular song of the same name, don’t seem to be very connected to the film at all. There are just too many things that Gilliam did not communicate as efficiently as one would hope.

My second big criticism is directly tied into the first, as it pertains to the lack of satisfaction. I’m not against a movie that doesn’t end with the characters living happily ever after, but I am against endings that don’t feel “correct.” I may have written a bit too much about this before, but screenwriter Terry Rossio’s rules about how an ending must be set up, inevitable, and yet unexpected are a good way to figure out why one might feel unsatisfied by a movie. If the simplistic plot consists of navigating through a dystopian future to marry a dream-girl, there had better be a good reason for missing the one goal we’re rooting for Sam to achieve, but this Gilliam’s only reason seems to be that he wanted to blow one last raspberry at western governments before he had to step down from his soap box.

I think it’s plain to see that I have mixed feelings about this unique work of art. The various trains of thought that I’ve boarded because of this film are so numerous and labyrinthine that I can reach no final verdict. I can completely respect the opinion that this is one of the greatest motion pictures of all time, and I can equally respect the opinion that this movie is whiny, bitter rubbish. Any efforts to unveil what exactly I feel because of Brazil seem to be disappointingly futile, but perhaps the important thing is that it made me feel, and it did so profusely. When it comes to rating the visuals, however, my feelings are clear: it’s in the 99.9th percentile, A++.

(Monty Python’s) Life of Brian Review

June 2, 2015 by JD Hansel

This film is not sacrilegious. This film is not about Jesus. It is about the importance of rationally thinking for oneself rather than just accepting what others say is true. It mocks group think, pokes fun at activists, and challenges people to be critical thinkers, making it very much the skeptic’s film. In fact, Pythoner John Cleese has said that a number of Christians have told him how much they enjoyed the film, because they understood that making fun of religion is not the point. Cleese has also gone on record saying that he has always thought Life of Brian would be considered the best Python film ever made, but I have to ask myself, would I say such a thing? Well, let’s analyze the story, characters, and comedy, comparing it to what has been my favorite of the Python productions, Holy Grail.

In terms of story, Brian works better. Its story has far more structure to it, and the plot is more conflict driven, with a narrative that would work well even if it was not a comedy piece. The pace is actually a little slow, but it’s still a very interesting story on the whole. The main character, Brian, has much more reality than King Arthur, making for more investment in a relatable character. This also lends itself to a great comedic situation as Brian is a voice of reason in a world of lunatics, and no one really listens to him. Also, the supporting characters are fun, will-written, and performed excellently, but this film is still not as fun or funny as I had hoped.

There was little to make me fall out of my chair laughing, but most of the movie did manage to put a smile on my face or get a chuckle out of me. Part of the problem was the culture-specific jokes throughout, such as the parody of the British political activist groups at the time, and the jokes based on the Pythoners’ mutual experience with learning Latin in school – something that is not as common in the US. In a way, the film is more of a tragicomedy than a comedy, largely because the audience cares a bit too much for Brian to be okay with his suffering (or at least I did). I tend to be very empathetic concerning movie characters I like, so I was legitimately happy when Brian was happy, but in turn, some of what he dealt with was hard to watch. Particularly the stupid people who didn’t really listen to him no matter how well he communicated – I knew I was supposed to laugh, and I suppose I did some, but I couldn’t help but empathize with his misery too much.

Comedy is a tricky thing since it requires keeping people interested in what the characters endure without letting them get too invested. So, in the end, I do not find Life of Brian to be their funniest film. I do, however, think it’s Monty Python’s most important film. I cannot help but respect this movie immensely for making a piece that helps us see why we must be critical thinkers, while making us smile at giggle at the same time. This film serves as a perfect example of how to make a message movie: its focus is on a strong character in an interesting situation; it makes it clear that this is not our world, but rather an absurd variation on our world; it is not at all preachy, but instead puts fun first; the audience is left smiling, but still thinking about the nature of humanity.

For this reason, I highly recommend the film to everyone, because in a way, it may be Monty Python’s finest achievement. (Not to mention, “Bright Side” is pretty great.)

P.S. My next movie review concerns another message movie that needed to learn a lesson or two from Life of Brian, so stay tuned . . . .

Harry Potter 7 Review

December 21, 2014 by JD Hansel

(MINOR SPOILERS)

Yeah, I got tired of writing out the full titles. They’re really long.

Anyway, the seventh film in the Harry Potter series, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – Part One is dark. By about the third or fourth film, it was clear that this series was not for the children anymore, but now this is especially true. It’s time to bring back beloved characters, bring back characters we didn’t care about and make us love them, and then finally kill them off. It’s also time to bring back old Umbridge, who unfortunately does not get her heart ripped out of her body and her skull bashed in in this film, but I can dream.

It is more fun to see our heroes in the Muggle world than in a Quidditch tournament, so that’s a plus. There’s basically no Hogwarts or Minerva McGonagall, and there’s hardly any Snape or Dumbledore (despite the fact that this would be a great time to learn more about these two characters, particularly the latter.) I have heard that, in the books, there’s a lot more information about Dumbledore revealed, but the movie is not focused on him. The upside to this is that there is more time spent with the main characters, and the lack of Ron means more time focused on Hermione, who is, in my opinion, the most interesting character in the franchise. I would like it if the films would go into her background a little more, and I’d like to see her brain at work, solving mysteries and showing off, but I guess you can’t have everything.

I do believe that this is one of the films that does not have the charm of the first two movies in the series, but the interesting details that are revealed, the focus on the main characters, the interesting drama, and the fascinating plot make it a nice film overall.