Sucker Punch

I'm afraid I might not have been completely fair to Battle Los Angeles. I was almost positive Battle Los Angeles would be a bad film before I watched it. I presupposed it was bad. I am not recanting any statements nor suggesting that the film is not boring and a waste of time, but it may have been unfair of me to go into a movie with such an attitude that might preclude it from making a positive impression on me.

To make this confession more shameful, I neglected to write in my review of Battle Los Angeles that I was touched by the last minute. I imagine that many critics probably discredited the film for shamelessly and predictably leaving the film essentially unfinished and open-ended to suggest a sequel and a Battle franchise. But I think it effectively conveys strong leadership and determination in a central character that is otherwise inadequately developed. I should have mentioned that.

J.D., with whom I saw Battle Los Angeles, updated his Facebook status yesterday that he was going to continue his trend of seeing bad films and see the new Zack Snyder film that night. He had called me the day before and asked if I wanted to see it with him. I said that I'd hang out with him and made no guarantee I'd see the film. But when I read his Facebook status, I realized that only with great resistance and an awkward social situation would I get out of seeing it.

But here I was again, thinking I didn't want to see it, presupposing its quality. I decided to change my perspective. Sure, it has an even lower percentage on Rotten Tomatoes than Battle Los Angeles, but I wonder how many other critics presuppose the quality of a female version of the Gerard Butler epic, 300? I figured if I put up no resistance and see the film with optimism, I could see things other people missed. Maybe I'll actually enjoy it. After all, I am paying to see it; it is only rational to believe that I am spending money for something that will I enjoy.

I wasn't stupid about this. I had read Peter Howell's review in The Toronto Star that the story does not make sense, and that the acting is flat. I knew I wouldn't enjoy it for the writing or the acting. I enjoyed Watchmen, one of Snyder's previous films, but I enjoyed it as a fanboy. Familiar with the comic book on which its based, Snyder's filmmaking talents were not on trial so much as his loyalty to the source material. But the visuals were extraordinary. This was my best clue to enjoying Sucker Punch. I figured that if I was going to enjoy this film, it was probably going to be on that basis alone. I adjusted my expectations accordingly.

As it turns out, there is a lot more going on in Sucker Punch than I thought it would have. It is certainly better than Battle Los Angeles and it might be the most interesting movie in theatres right now. It is not just the visuals that are worth seeing in Sucker Punch. The visuals are lovely; Snyder makes ugly and scary look good. But the film's narrative form is bizarre, which comes as a pleasant surprise. It's confusing and perhaps unintelligible, and I don't like the film enough to ever watch it again, but it was definitely more unique than I expected it to be. I've never seen a movie executed quite like this before. I challenge anyone to name a title with a story told like this.

The story, to refute Peter Howell, makes some sense. Actually, there are two stories and they both make sense. In the first story, a young girl, played by Emily Browning, is unjustly committed to a mental institution where she is subject to primitive surgical practices and the authority of corrupt guards. In the second story, a young girl, played by Emily Browning, is, at the consent of a priest, unwillingly adopted by a burlesque establishment, the owners of which subject their dancers to public dancing and prostitution. They're implausible, absurd, offensive perhaps, but they make sense.

Most of the film tells the second story. After some workplace drama, the young girl, dubbed Baby Doll, convinces four other captives to help her attain several items needed to escape. Their method is thievery amid distraction by Baby Doll's exceptionally arousing dance routine. Here's where it gets even weirder. Baby Doll's dance routines are never shown. When her dances begin, the film cuts to an epic action sequence. For example, Baby Doll and her four helpers at one point try to attain a map of the burlesque establishment. The plan is that while Baby Doll distracts the management with her dance, one of her helpers, Sweet Pea, will sneak into an office and get a copy of the map posted on the wall. I guess she makes an offscreen photocopy or something. But when Baby Doll starts her dance, the film cuts to a fantasy world: a battlefield in which the five girls are slaughtering robots with gas masks. They are looking for a map in this fantasy too. After much killing and explosions, they find the map. This might have been a fifteen-minute sequence. I can't say it wasn't entertaining. When the action sequence is over, the film cuts back to reality, where Baby Doll's dance is over and Sweet Pea has acquired the map, their mission accomplished. The five girls rejoice backstage in their dressing room. 

The film thus defines a formula here that it follows throughout the film: workplace drama, followed by scheming, followed by dance routine and action sequence, followed by rejoicing, repeat. It gets tiresome.

Other critics, including Howell, have claimed that the action sequences are the best part of Sucker Punch. It is a sad truth. If all you like are the action sequences, you're going to be ripping the skin off of your arms waiting for them because they appear about as often as commercial breaks during a TV programme. Faithful to its formula, there aren't many of them, and they aren't important to the story, or stories. I think the film tries to suggest that they somehow represent the girls' turbulent inner strength or their passion for justice or something vague like that. Whatever they mean, as good as they look, they are inconsequential.

The film needs more focus. One of the stories should have been cut, and more care should have been taken to connect fantasies to their reality counterparts. There were moments where, due to the bizarre nature of the film, I was not able to predict the film, which evoked a genuine feeling of concern for the certain characters. But by the last ten minutes of the film, the film had slipped in and out of different stories and fantasies so much that I didn't care who was dead or who survived, who escaped or who got caught. I couldn't seriously invest interest in one story over another, in one character in one story over the same character in another story, or in one character played by one actor in one story over a different character played by the same actor in another story. Wow. Now this review is unintelligible.

When the film ends, I think the film tries to suggest that the action sequences were representations of the inner battles we face in life. Or something like that. I was unmoved. But hey, I wasn't expecting a well-written film, and neither should anyone going to see it. It is visually interesting with an ambitious narrative structure. The music is great as well, with covers of familiar tunes and an old Björk favourite played up to three times. Original music would have been preferred.

So yeah, I'll probably never see this movie again.

Self-referential greeting message

I wanted to begin my blog with a greeting message but I hesitated. I thought I would give my readers a little more credit. I decided I would earn my reader's interest with some reviews before I flat-out talk to them about why I decided writing a movie review blog. I mean, otherwise, it's like "Who are you, and why are you telling me that you are writing a movie review blog when I don't even know who you are?" I respect potential readers enough to simply show them the product instead of announcing its arrival as if I earned their attention in the first place.

I hypothesize that I now have about 5 readers because I posted some reviews on this blog, and via Facebook, Tumblr and word-of-mouth, I received some positive feedback. So to you, the reader, I welcome you to what will hopefully be a consistently entertaining column on films about which I have something to say. In the age of the internet, amid a global culture in which anonymity drowns out new voices, I sincerely thank you for your time.

New reviews will not necessarily be of new films. I'm not a professional film critic, writing for a professional newspaper, so I feel no urge to be topical. I accept requests, and even demands, for particular films to be reviewed. But for the most part, films will appear to be selected at random.

Battle Los Angeles

Battle Los Angeles is boring. This review is going to be boring because it is of Battle Los Angeles and Battle Los Angeles is boring.

A U.S. marine played by Aaron Eckhart is demoted by another marine in an office. His face is zoomed in on for no reason. The camera is shaking. This style of cinematography is a trend in contemporary filmmaking that is sometimes exciting but often annoying. In Battle Los Angeles, it is used throughout the entire film. It's annoying and boring.

A handful of characters are established in the first twenty minutes. Captions are provided, depicting the names of onscreen characters. There is no reason for this.

Characters are affable and obviously written for a young male demographic. There is actually a scene in which marines are loitering at night, and superfluous females and alcoholic beverages abound. One marine is a virgin. He is laughed at. I am suspicious that the film tries to make the point that anyone can join the military, even if you are a virgin. Is Battle Los Angeles military propaganda? This thought is more entertaining than the film.

Combat begins. The rest of the movie consists of shooting, exploding, stabbing and yelling. Mostly the first two. The threat is overwhelmingly powerful and difficult to attack. Realistically, humans would not be able to defend themselves. But we have to sit and watch some U.S. marines make inspirational speeches and slowly figure out effective ways to attack. Inspirational choral music plays with standard action scenes that were done better in District 9. Boring.

This film should have started with the aliens quickly destroying all humans. The rest of the film could show what the aliens do with Earth's resources, or whether they are successful in pursuit of their initial goals. That's something people could actually talk about. Except for its flaws, there is nothing to talk about in Battle Los Angeles. It happens, and then you leave. A waste of time.

시 (Poetry)

When Mija was a little girl, she was told by a teacher that she would be a poet. Decades later, she decides to join a poetry class at her local community centre. She missed the deadline for enrolment, but she tries to join anyway. There is an immediacy. She tries to tell a doctor about a pain in her arm, and her struggle to remember words is his only concern. She may have Alzheimer's disease. Her faculties for poetry may not last much longer.

Mija is a good person. She is gentle, fragile and unthreatening. She works part-time as a maid for an old man. She bathes him and cleans his home. On one occasion, he tips her 10,000 won. This is approximately nine American dollars. She is grateful for his apparent generosity. She did not expect it.

She lives with her grandson. Living off part-time wages and government subsidies, she gives him everything he needs. He is ungrateful. He avoids her when he can and when he can't, he ignores her. He speaks to her disrespectfully; he does not make requests, he gives commands. But she loves him unconditionally. Her virtue is unchallenged.

Mija is passionate. Her daughter observes that she likes flowers and says odd things, that a poetry class is appropriate. Her poetry teacher describes the poet's perfect moment: a sharpened pencil wavering over a blank piece of paper. She speaks out in class: “I used to be good at sharpening pencils.” Another day, having found it difficult to write, she speaks out again: “When does poetic inspiration come?” The teacher answers as best as he can.

Assembled with the fathers of her grandson's close friends, Mija learns that her grandson is a rapist. A girl in his school, Agnes, recently committed suicide, and her diary indicates six students repeatedly raping her until her death. Mija's grandson is one of the students. Now she can write. She notes the colour of a nearby flower: Blood red. The men think she is clueless. But in fact, the bad news is her first clue.

Mija is faced with two objectives. Mija's poetry teacher administers a single assignment: Write one poem. This is her first objective. She has one month to do this. Meanwhile, so that her grandson and her grandson's friends can be free of punishment and that the school can secure its reputation, Mija is asked to come up with 5,000,000 won, one sixth of an amount deemed appropriate by the five fathers to compensate Agnes' mother. This is difficult for her not only because she does not have the money, but also because she did not explicitly agree that such a compensation is appropriate. Her opinion does not seem to matter. Compensating Agnes' mother becomes her second objective.

These two objectives, comprising two main story arcs, are beautifully woven into each other; for Mija engages in a series of actions, and we are challenged to decide which objective each action is a step toward. Each action seems to be a step toward one of the two, but there is an extent to which, it can be argued in every case, an action is a step toward both. She attends Agnes' funeral. She wants to pay respects to Agnes' family. Overwhelmed with pity and shame, she cannot stay. Perhaps now she has more to write about. She visits the bridge off of which Agnes jumped. On the shore of the river below, she takes out her notebook, opens it to an empty page. She seeks poetic inspiration, but Agnes is on her mind. What is the right thing to do? What is just? We see her actions, but her heart remains a mystery. The film is like poetry itself: beautiful and ambiguous.

There is no music in the film, except when characters play it themselves. This is a move in filmmaking that cannot be made without strong writing and directing. The sound effects and sound mixing are notably superb. The sounds of running water, rustling foliage and various insects dominate the soundtrack when Mija wanders through the Korean landscape. At the tail end of another Canadian winter, I was happy to experience such a warm climate.

The film is regrettably the only film by Lee Chang-dong I have seen. The film won the Best Screenplay award at the Cannes Festival, and it won the Best Director and Best Actress awards at the Asia Pacific Screen Awards. Perhaps, due to its severely limited release, the film did not qualify as a 2010 release and so was not within the scope of the Academy's Best Foreign Language Film award. The film is being shown now in selected theatres in the United States. It deserves attention.

This film evidences a great talent. This is Chang-dong's fifth film. I am four films behind. For each of his films, he is credited as both writer and director. I suspect that his other films are made with a similar style and an equal amount of craftsmanship. They appear to have had significant critical acclaim. He is a filmmaker worth catching up on and watching out for.

Rango

For most film critics or film bloggers I reckon that their reviews fall roughly into two categories: good and bad. This review belongs to a third category: the boycott review, reviews of films its writer walked out on or altogether refuse to see. In these reviews, the writer must state his reasons for the boycott. The reader will decide, just like he would if he were reading a bad review, if the reasons presented are persuasive enough to keep him away from the film. Admittedly the reasons presented in a boycott review are conceptually less persuasive than reasons presented in a bad review since the writer of the latter has actually seen the subject in its entirety and is therefore a more competent judge of the material, but surely one could show that an apple is rotten without biting into it.

I watched the first fifteen minutes of Rango. The's film's central narrative is framed by a quartet of owls that sing to the audience. One of the owls tells us to sit back and enjoy the film with our popcorn and assorted candies. I had a bag of popcorn, but I didn't have any candy. I felt alienated. I guess I'm not the kind of consumer the film was intended for.

But a lot of people around me had both popcorn and candy. I realized that the owl was making a joke. The writers of Rango figure that most people who see computer-animated films also buy popcorn and candy. Before the film started, I was in line to redeem a ticket I had to get two drinks and a popcorn. In front of me were several different people, several different buyers. "What do you guys want?" a mother asks her daughter and her daughter's friends. Nearby a family of three holds six food items. I got the joke: Rango is a cash cow, promoting massive concession purchases. This joke is not funny. It left me cold. I felt like a consumer, not a film-goer. Sitting there with my popcorn and drink, I was justifiably patronized. A thoroughly depressing moment in film.

But I also wanted to give my girlfriend a chance to like it. And who knows, maybe the central narrative is actually good, in spite of its unfortunate owl-quartet frame.

A lizard talks to a dead insect and a Barbie doll's torso. He is enacting a dramatic rescue scene. He wants to be an actor, I suppose. It's a one-lizard show, and he has the voice of Johnny Depp. So it's a Johnny Depp show. Unfunny jokes are made.

The lizard's tank falls out of its owner's car and, after an oracular conversation with an armadillo, gets swept up by the wind of a truck, propelling him into the windshield of a convertible à la Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas. I suspect that the writers wanted to reward "old-school" Johnny Depp fans with this quick reference to his previous work. But, like Family Guy a lot of the time, this reference is for reference's sake; aside from its visual and aural similarity, the reference offers no real reward to audiences familiar with the source material. It's about as satisfying as answering correctly the trivia questions that theatres project on slides before the lights go out. In effect it only affirms any suspicion that the film is essentially a Johnny Depp vehicle. So it's a self-aware Johnny Depp show.

A bird is established as a threat to the lizard. The lizard tries to camouflage himself. He fails. A chase ensues. Do I have to finish this?

A female character is introduced. Her agenda is unclear.

"Do you like this?" I asked my girlfriend.

"It's not that interesting."

One five-minute grace period later and we were off to Guest Services to get our money back. We got two complimentary passes to return at another time, but I'm not sure when that will be because when I got home I looked up Rango's critical reception and on Rotten Tomatoes it had the highest percentage of positive reviews of all films that came out in the last two months. Another depressing moment.