THE PLAGUE DOGS

I have a soft spot for animals. At times I think they are more noble than men, as they live an existence that is very clear and basic. Their affections are true, they can sense despair, and they are, in the end, loyal. Domesticated animals have put an implicit level of trust in us to take care of them, as we've robbed them of their ability to survive in the wild. Understanding this, I am puzzled and terrified by those who abuse animals, those who exert an unfair balance of power upon creatures that place their faith in men.

If an abused animal ever had a voice, it was best heard in Martin Rosen's long forgotten animated classic, THE PLAGUE DOGS. Made in 1982 on a low budget, the film is an adaptation of Richard Adams' novel of the same title, and features the voice talents of John Hurt, Patrick Stewart, Nigel Hawethorn and Christopher Benjamin.

The story begins with an odd scene of a black Labrador Retriever paddling in a large water tank. The dog collapses with exhaustion, and sinks to the bottom of the tank. We hear the voices of men in the background, crunching scientific data and mentioning something about endurance tests. The dog is fished out of the tank with a long hook and resuscitated, and thrown back into his pen where there are hundreds of other dogs.

The dog is Rawf (voiced by Christopher Benjamin), and he mumbles to his neighbor, Snitter (John Hurt), a skittery terrier who has a bandage that covers the top of his scalp. Rawf talks of "Whitecoats", the men who subject the cruel and punishing tests to these animals, and in his exhaustion he talks of killing them.

And this is our welcome to the world of THE PLAGUE DOGS, one where noble creatures are subject to the mores and depravities of mankind. The tone of this film and story is established from the outset- this is a dark film, a grim story, and one where we know our two protagonists will be tested (both literally and figuratively) to their breaking points. This is not THE LION KING, and viewers beware: the film pulls no punches.

Snitter and Rawf are lab test animals, and they are imprisoned, along with monkeys, rats, and rabbits, in a secret laboratory located within a government sanctioned park in the Lake District in the UK. The two dogs, through sheer determination and delusion, manage to escape from the lab. Snitter, a dog who once had a master, seeks the memories of comfort and joy that he knew before a tragedy landed him in the testing facility. Rawf, a dog who knows little of the outside world, carries a chip upon his shoulder and a deathly fear of water. The dogs escape to the open, and realize that because of the efforts of men, they are ill equipped to live in the wild. They make the ultimate decision- they must revert to their wild nature and kill, or else they shall starve.

The transition is not easy, and the pair enlist the help of a clever fox, known simply as The Tod. With the assistance of The Tod the trio manage to kill several sheep. Unknown to the animals however is that these sheep belong to local farmers, who become distressed over the loss of several sheep. They organize a hunt to capture and kill the predators of their livelihood.

Meanwhile another crisis brews in the government, as they fear that the release of two dogs from the test facility would bring a wave of negative awareness to the treatment of the animals. The media investigation into the matter goes from base curiosity to panic, and the game of telephone result in the start of a nasty rumor: the dogs may carry fleas that carry the plague. The remainder of the film is a thrilling chase with two goals: the dogs to find their freedom, and the humans to cover up their crimes.

I won't divulge which goal sees fruition, but I can disclose that THE PLAGUE DOGS has one of the most emotional and moving endings I've ever seen, live or animated. In the end I was reaffirmed of the cruelty of man, but also the blessings of friendship and kindness, and the ebullience of freedom and independence. It is the culmination of a relationship that is based upon pure kindness and compassion, one of survival and fraternity. It damn near made me cry.

THE PLAGUE DOGS avoids the traps of other films that anthropomorphize animals. Films like BABE and the countless Disney films make us empathize with the animals as people, with human emotions and human desires. Rawf and Snitter do not share the desires of humans, rather they share the desires of animals- to be fed, to be loved, and to be free. They never stray from these desires, as it is their unalienable right. The dogs do not serve as a metaphor for human behaviour, rather they are the recipients of it, and their reactions seem authentic and true. Credit goes to the masterful voice work and the naturalistic animation. Rosen and his band of animators manage to capture small details that are true to dogs, and they create characters that are natural, effortless, and ultimately believable.

THE PLAGUE DOGS was little seen, probably because it was too intense for children, and contained far too much veracity for adults. It is an odd film with no real home, much like its protagonists. But it belongs in our lives. We see in this film good dogs that want- and need- a good home, and the love that they shall bestow in return is limitless. We see that when man tampers with nature, the ramifications can be cruel and unbecoming, and they expose us as monsters. If you previously were ambivalent about animal testing by cosmetics and commercial entities, then after seeing THE PLAGUE DOGS your mind will truly change. This is a shattering, poignant piece of work, and the most powerful work of animation that I'd seen since the masterpiece GRAVE OF THE FIREFLIES.

The film is not an easy watch, nor will children be able to comprehend the complexities of the emotions on display. But it is an important work nonetheless, and worthy of time and discussion. You may not be happy after watching THE PLAGUE DOGS, but you will feel more complete and enlightened for having experienced it. I can't say that about too many films.

Now if you excuse me, I'm going to go hug my cat.

BRING IT ON: ALL OR NOTHING

I just realized that in my film reviews, I'm not being fair. I'm only reviewing films that I think are good. So I need to invoke the spirit of Fox News and bring a "fair and balanced" approach to reviewing movies.

Which brings me to BRING IT ON: ALL OR NOTHING, the third part of the cheerleading magnum opus trilogy. I must admit, the original BRING IT ON is a guilty pleasure, a well executed piece of pop confection that always holds my attention. I really really enjoy it. The DVD sits next to my copy of THE DOUBLE LIFE OF VERONIQUE on my bookshelf.

Then there was a second installment which nobody saw, and we are blessed with the third (and presumably final) installment. In fairness to the target audience, I shall now divulge the plot, in character:

So, like, there's this totally hot chick named Brittany who's all like perfect and stuff, like she's dating the high school quarterback and is the captain of her cheerleading squad. She kinda is a total bitch to some of the girls on her squad, but like, she's dedicated to being the best, so she sees it more as like, what do they call it? Destructive criticism?

Anyway so her dad has to like to move for his job and whatever, and Brittany has to transfer to this totally ghetto Crenshaw High School which is full of like, gang bangers and black people. Brittany tries to, like, join the cheerleading squad but the black and hispanic kids are totally mean to her, and they like call her "white girl" and are totally bitchy with her. But Brittany gets on the squad, and she's introduced to this totally new way of dancing that's done in the hood- I think they call it Krumping. And so,like....


OK I have to stop here because if I vomit on my computer then it will short circuit.

This movie was on ABC Family last night and I have to say it was the most racist film I'd seen since BIRTH OF A NATION. I shit you not. Every possible racial stereotype was played out to just below blatant levels, and it made me wonder why the filmmakers just didn't go the extra step. Why didn't they just have the Puerto Rican girl pull a razorblade out from under her tongue and punctuate every one of her lines with "mi vida loca" and "pendejo" and have all of her friends dressed up like cholos? And why not just have the white kids call the black kids niggers- they said every other term, including "gang bangers," "hood rats" and ghetto kids." An Asian girl, who by the way knows martial arts, is even referred to as "Crouching Tiger." Just go ahead and call her a chink with her "Ancient Chinese Secret."

There's even a scene where lead "actress" Hayden Panettiere (god will someone please stop giving this insufferable girl work), having been blessed with the humility of minority life, steps up to her former white friends and declares "You better watch yourself, white girl!" A white girl berating another white girl for being a white girl? What the hell is going on here? Having denounced her white-devil heritage and embraced the simple life of humble working minorities, Hayden then turns to her Latino boy crush and Krumps with him.

And that's just the racism bit. The film lovingly embraces and focuses on jailbait buttcheeks, midriffs and boobs, and features more crotch shots than a Jenna Jameson double feature. The clearly underage nymphets don't just suggest sex, they even have it, with the bitchy antagonist declaring in front of her entire high school that she too had sex with the high school quarterback, and goddammit he loved every minute of it. We all know it happens, but on ABC Family? Whose parent company is Disney?

And then there's the running gag about eating disorders. A girl who is skinny is constantly told that she is fat, and once she passes out she's happy to eat a Snickers bar. She realizes, in a moment of intellectual clarity, that "I come from a family of fat asses." I'm not joking with you, that's what she really says.

The movie tries to moralize its racist and prejudiced undertones as "don't judge a book by its cover" but it fails miserably because it doesn't make an example of them, it makes jokes out of them. Bad jokes. Tasteless jokes. Mean-spirited jokes.

If CRASH was a dissection of race relations in America, then BRING IT ON:ALL OR NOTHING is the cancerous tumor of racism in America that continues to grow and fester. The scriptwriters use the ideology of "I was only joking" to cover up their core belief that "stereotypes exist for a reason," which is absolutely reprehensible. It's like if I were to go to a random black man on the street here in Chicago and tell him "You look like a cotton-pickin' nigger," and then follow that with a pat on the back and telling him " I'm just joking with ya." I might say I'm joking, but the fact of the matter is that I still fucking said the joke, and I probably wouldn't have said it if I didn't believe in it, even fractionally.

Don Imus is rightfully getting his ass kicked for saying racist remarks about the Rutgers women's basketball team, and he's trying to defend himself saying it was just a joke. You don't call someone a "nappy head ho" and later tell them you're just joking. And people around this country are defending him using the rhetoric "it's ok for a black man to call a black woman a ho, why can't a white man do it?" Because the black man who calls a black woman a ho or another black man a nigger is as much of an ingrate as a white man who does it. Don't judge assholes against other assholes, judge them against standards of universal decency.

This movie is an utter abomination, a primitive piece of hate posing as compassionate conservatism, and a disgrace. And the fact that its being marketed to kids is a crime punishable by solitary for life. Shame on the people who make this crap.

BLIND SHAFT

BLIND SHAFT
Written and Directed by Yang Li

"China is short of everything but people."

As sociopolitical systems, both capitalism and communism are great on paper. The communist ethic has pretty much proven a failure in modern application, as it doesn't account for the base principal of human greed. People want things, and they generally want more of that thing than their neighbor. And when they are rationed and denied any excess, they will find other means of getting said things. Corruption and black market economies ensue, and nations fall apart.

Capitalism on the other hand is still being tested, and its failures are rarely documented because, as the saying goes, it is the winners who write the history books. We rarely hear about the disparities of wealth created by the system of free enterprise. Capitalism as a system is still up in the air, but for the most part it has outlasted communism.

Enter the People's Republic of China, which is technically a Socialist Republic but is governed with the authoritarianism and oversight of a full communist state. While its constitution declares a freedom of press, the media in China is highly censored for what is called reasons of national security. Part of this censorship is that we are rarely if never given a peek into the lives of common Chinese citizens, the blue collar worker in the largest manufacturing base in the world.

BLIND SHAFT, the debut narrative feature directed by former documentary filmmaker Yang Li, gives us such a rare glimpse into Chinese life, and the small joys and overwhelming hardships that the people of China are facing as the country transitions into the singular economic powerhouse of the world.

Li's film focuses on China's private coal mining industry, which has been pushed into overdrive in response to China's incredible demand for energy as its infrastructure exponentially grows. The film follows the exploits of two men- presumably friends- who work in the most inhospitable of conditions for pay that is marginally better than those found in China's other sectors. Coal mining provides better compensation because of its high degree of risk, and also by the fact that the mines are located in some of the coldest, barren and desolate parts of Northern China. Nobody in their right mind would work there, but as work and resources are scarce, people are willing to risk their lives for a little extra cash.

The two men, Song Jinming and Tang Zhaomang, work hard but they have a much deeper ulterior motive, as they concoct a scam that involves the sabotage of the mine shafts and the untimely death (re:murder) of a coworker. The men collect upon the misfortunes of the victim, claiming hush money from the private owners based upon presumed heredity to the victims. Song and Tang have run this scam at several mines, moving from region to region, and leaving a dead body in each place. Tang blows his money on booze and whores, while Song sends a portion home to his family towards his child's education.

Enter Yuan Fengming, a sapling of a boy, barely sixteen, alone and looking for work. Yuan wants to earn good money to send home to pay for his sister's school fees, and he has left his family behind in search of work, work that is abundantly scarce in China. While in a market Tang finds Yuan and targets him as the next victim, manipulating the boy's innocence and convincing Yuan to pose as Song's nephew. The three then journey far north to a new coal mine, where they find employment.

The events that follow contribute to what is an excellent crime drama, one that is full of twists and turns, but is a far richer viewing experience because it does not overlook the basic human emotions that govern men. We are shown the divide between compassion and survival, and the mitigation between greed and basic provision. Song and Tang represent the system of old, where a man is denied excess, and therefore he must cheat, steal and even maim to achieve more. Yuan, the boy, represents the new hope of China, that hard work and determination can create economic stability and mobility. The ending of the film places these forces in full display, and as shocking as it is, the ending comes as highly appropriate and exceptionally well observed.

Yang Li made this film on a shoestring budget, employing the tools acquired from documentary filmmaking. Guerrilla shoots, johnny-on-the-spot filmmaking and the use of nonprofessional actors places the film in the esteemed realm of neorealist works by the Dardenne Brothers, Gillo Pontecorvo, and the Dogma filmmakers. The film has a raw beauty that both mimics and dissolves human life, stripping it down to its bare essentials and showing nothing but the bare wires of existence.

Not since Zhang Ke Jia's epic PLATFORM and the Dardenne Brothers' trilogy of films (ROSETTA, LE FILS and L'ENFANT) have I seen a more brutally honest portrayal of life- everyday life- in all its glory and squalor. BLIND SHAFT is one of those hidden gems that is an engaging yarn, expertly crafted and performed, and despite its underlying complexity, it reads effortlessly as a gripping crime drama. Credit goes to Yang Li for extracting the base truth from every scene, every moment, and every nuance. I can't wait to see his future work, and I eagerly await the opportunity to get a further glimpse into a world that hardly any of us are privy to.

And it is odd when you think about it. China occupies almost a fifth of our planet's population, and yet we know so very little of what goes on there. Films like BLIND SHAFT are as good as going there, if not the next best alternative, and what we ascertain that the global powerhouse that is the People's Republic of China is, like its neighbors to the West, prosperous at a cost. We see that capitalism and free enterprise, like communism, have yet to take the tenant of basic human greed into account. And one must wonder exactly how does one address the trappings of greed? Films such as this are a good place to start that important discussion. It's one we all desperately need to have.

BLIND SHAFT is available on DVD.

'300' AND THE WAR AGAINST TERROR (COMMENTARY)

There's been countless articles about how Zach Snyder's Spartan film '300' is pro-war and anti-Arab, and I'm not really going to go into that because it's been hacked to death (pun intended), to the point where even the President of Iran has his own theories about the film.

I have yet to see '300', but the Battle of Thermopylae has significance to the current war in Iraq and Afghanistan from a different perspective, one that is not even broached in the film. After the battle, wherein the Spartans were eventually defeated and Athens was brutally attacked and humiliated by Xerxes and the Persian Empire, it took almost a century for the Greeks to seek justice for the invasion.

Alexander the Great, son of Phillip of Macedonia, set out East to destroy the Persian Empire, to avenge the humiliation of Greece and the slaughter of so many Greek citizens. Alexander commanded a dedicated battalion of tough, rugged Macedonian soldiers across much of the civilized world, brutally hunting down the Persian King Darius, and later King Bessus. Alexander chased the Kings across Turkey, Egypt, Palestine, Israel, Iraq, Iran, and Afghanistan where Bessus was murdered and the Persian capital of Persepolis in Iran was burned to the ground.

This is where the story of Alexander becomes relevant to our conflict today, in a far more poignant manner than '300' could ever convey. Alexander, having avenged his Greek ancestors, pressed on into Afghanistan, Pakistan and India, driven to a manifest destiny given to him by holy Oracles from the god Zeus-Ammon. Zeus-Ammon was later said to be a divine figure of Alexander's own creation, and he alone was only to receive the divine instruction from God. Alexander's soldiers, exhausted from the 22,000 mile journey from Macedonia, started to question their leader. Their faith to him, while still strong, began to waver. Finally, after facing brutal battles in India, the soldiers stood up to Alexander, claiming they would fight no more. They had avenged the Greeks, and conquering India had no relevance to the original mission. Alexander no longer had the will and dedication of his men. He had no other choice but to call off the campaign and go home to Macedonia.

Jump millennia ahead and we have the events of September 11th. The leader behind the attacks was Osama Bin Laden, a Saudi blue-blood who attacked America for her support of Israel and the Saudi Royal Family. Thousands of Americans were killed, and the nation was humbled and humiliated. Our leader, President George W. Bush and the U.S. Congress rightfully waged a military campaign to bring Bin Laden and Al-Quaeda to justice. A battalion of US soldiers were sent to Afghanistan to hunt down and apprehend Bin Laden, to make him pay for the humiliation and massacre of the American people. Much like Alexander led the Macedonians into the heart of the Persian Empire to pay for the massacre of the Greeks by King Xerxes.

America was behind George Bush, and was determined to find Bin Laden and crush his supporters, the Taliban. Once the Taliban was nullified (and Bin Laden was on the run and reported to be in ill health), the President, his eyes full of power and listening to the words of his own faith and oracles, pursued a military campaign in Iraq. Everyone within the US establishment questioned the campaign, but under the original plan of justice for atrocities committed against America, they still stood by their leader. The confusion was this: our enemy and mission was in Afghanistan, and to press forward into Iraq had no true rationale. Much like Alexander who, after crushing Persepolis, pressed onwards to India when there was no real rationale to do so.

So into Iraq we go, our soldiers depleted and wary, and we fight a battle that only our leader knows why, and we follow him blindly, taking heavy casualties from a little understood opponent. Such was the case with Alexander, who understood little of the Indian Empire, who had never seen a military fight with war elephants. The Indians were a formidable opponent, and many Macedonians were killed.

And here is where the allegory (and this overtly simplistic account of history) ends, and the future is yet to be determined. If history repeats itself, which it has shown to do, then what can we expect in Iraq, and maybe even Iran? We have a President, George W. Bush, a born-again Christian who makes decisions according to his evangelical faith and his false idols, money and oil. Here is a man who has gone beyond the original scope of the mission, which was to bring the murderers from September 11th to justice. Bin Laden has become an afterthought, much like Bessos and Darius in Persia. Bush is persisting for reasons unknown to us, unknown to the soldiers. And like the Macedonia troops, who after the fall of Persepolis wished only to return to Macedonia to their families, our US soldiers are forced to stay in a campaign that many are no longer believing in, many are questioning the reasoning behind it.

If this precedent follows suit, then it is the US military who will stand up to the President and declare that they will follow him no more, that the plan has skewed and betrayed its original intent. We see rumblings of this, with US military generals voicing dissent and confessing to the ill vision of the commander. Whereas Alexander fought alongside with his men on the front line, President Bush keeps his men at distance, dictating orders from afar, detached from his men, taking orders from Oracles that no one knows or understands. I imagine it would be difficult to fight for a leader who has distanced himself from your struggles. He will not fight alongside with you, he has nothing at stake, you are going to die for a man you've never seen.

Greece and Macedonia were the greatest democracies of their time, and it was the Macedonian troops who exercised their democratic right by speaking out against their leader, by questioning his motives, by noncompliance. They were not only soldiers for Greece, they were also citizens of a democracy. Perhaps then the United States, which is currently the greatest democracy of its time, should follow suit, and the citizens of its democracy, of its volunteer army, should question and ultimately disband itself from the ill conceived and justified plans of its delusional leader.

One man cannot win a war. Alexander understood that and retreated, and prevented the further slaughter of ancient civilizations. But then again Alexander was a smart man, a pupil of Aristotle. We can only hope that George Bush can spell 'Aristotle.'

THE DEVIL CAME ON HORSEBACK

THE DEVIL CAME ON HORSEBACK
Directed by Ricki Stern and Annie Sundeberg

I remember September 11th very clearly. The mass transit system in Chicago was shut down and we all had to systematically evacuate the downtown area, for fear of the Sears Tower or John Hancock Building being struck. I remember walking home and trying desperately to call my friends in New York to see if they were alright. I came home and cried as I watched the terrible footage, and I had an itch that I needed to go to New York and help out. I was trained in Colorado as a volunteer for Rocky Mountain Search and Rescue, and I had skills to search for people lost in avalanches and rock slides. But I had no way to get to New York. And had I found a way to get to New York, people and volunteers alike were wisely being refused entry to Ground Zero. So I had to sit at home, helpless, powerless, saddened.

It's been six years since that day, and those feelings of helplessness reared its ugly head again when I saw the film THE DEVIL CAME ON HORSEBACK. This is a documentary of another horrific event, but unlike September 11th the terror still persists, and the body count rises daily. This is the story of Darfur, of the genocide of black Sudanese citizens carried out by the fanatic Arab population of Sudan.

The story begins with Brian Steidle, a third generation Marine Captain who had just finished his tour of Iraq and was looking forward to an early retirement. Still seeking one last call to duty, Stiedle volunteers to embark as a military reservist with the African Union for a peace keeping mission in Sudan, to act as an observatory member to ensure that the recently signed ceasefire resolution was being maintained. Stiedle packed his belongings and headed to Darfur, the Western-most region of Sudan that borders neighboring Chad.

Stiedle arrived in Darfur to not only witness that the accord was not being followed, but that crimes of humanity were being committed even worse than before. Sudanese villages that were populated with non-Arab farmers and peasants were being raped, pillaged, and massacred by the Janjaweed- the private Arab militia hired by the Sudanese government in Khartoum.

Stiedle, who was not on a military mission and therefore was not given a weapon, was helpless to defend the citizens from the Janjaweed. His calls and emails to officials in the US and in Europe were met with either dissent or rhetoric- nobody had proof that these atrocities were happening because the Sudanese government had denied access of foreign governments and the UN to the Darfur region. Khartoum continued to deny such accusations, and placed a hush on all activities coming out of the region. Corporations colluded with the Sudanese government in shutting down mobile communications in the region.

Stiedle was powerless. The only weapon he had was his camera, and Stiedle proceeded to create the largest known first-hand photo journalistic account of the genocide in Darfur. His images captured the Janjaweed in the process of burning villages, torturing and murdering men and children, and systematically raping every woman. Armed with over 1,000 incriminating photographs, Stiedle took his findings to the international community, hoping his work would finally convince the world that a crime of massive proportions is going on underneath our noses.

The response Stiedle received was shocking and incomprehensible. His accounts were lost in political semantics and rhetoric, with Sudanese officials and ex-pats calling Stiedle's photographs a fallacy and manufactured. The proceedings hauntingly rang of the debates of those who deny the Holocaust ever existed, those who create elaborate conspiracy theories to explain the murdering of hundreds of thousands.

It was heartbreaking to watch this powerful film. One one side we have the helplessness of Stiedle, a good man and good soldier who cannot do anything to physically help those being slaughtered, and whose words are falling on deaf or politically bound ears. On the other side we have the plight of the people of Darfur, who are equally helpless to defend themselves from the attacks of the Janjaweed and their government. It has become clear that the Arab dominated government in Khartoum wants all non-Arabs dead, wiped off the face of the Earth. The Janjaweed has now moved into Chad, killing and raping even more people. The African Union is helpless because they cannot mount a full military response unless they have a majority vote- the Arab nations in the Union have voted against any intrusion into Sudan. The Union is also outgunned and undermanned to take on such a task.

it must be further noted that this is not an issue of religion, as Sudan is primarily Muslim. The Janjaweed, who are Muslim, are backed by a Muslim government who has ordered the killing of their fellow Muslims. This is an issue of Arab versus non-Arab, a pure genocide based on race. If you are a black African in Darfur, your days are numbered. The Janjaweed have now been almost fully absorbed into the Sudanese military, who provide the Janjaweed with armaments to fight against non-Arab resistance forces (the Sudan Liberation Movement and the Justice and Equality Movement). These rebel groups themselves have fallen into corruption, and they are neither friend or foe, as Sudan is also in a war of definitions.

In 2004, the United States, under a committee chaired by former Secretary of State Colin Powell, officially determined that the Darfur Conflict had escalated into genocide, and urged the UN to pass a resolution to have the Janjaweed disarmed. The UN Security Council passed the order, but has yet been able to enforce the resolution because the Sudanese government had not allowed UN access into Darfur. The United States has not considered military action in Darfur, as it is currently preoccupied with its current wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Stiedle has correctly pointed out that the solution in Darfur must not come from America's military alone. If the US were to lead a singular invasion, it would further polarize the Arab world against the United States. The military force to save the people of Darfur must be one of the United Nations, of a collective of nations to which no political vendetta can be attached. While crime must be stopped, it should not be at the expense of future atrocities and terrorism. This may be political logic, but we must always keep the benefit of future generations in mind of our actions.

THE DEVIL CAME ON HORSEBACK is one of the most immediate and important films to see this year. It is the struggle of one man to inform the world to act on a genocide that is happening now, happening today. As I write this blog I know in my mind that right now, somewhere in Darfur a village is being set aflame, a child is being murdered, a woman is being raped repeatedly. How we continue to let this happen is beyond me, and we're all guilty of turning a blind eye.

What can we do? We can let our government and other governments know that the United States public will not tolerate inaction. We can demand change. We can put our money where our mouth is. We can boycott the corporations that work with African companies that partner with the Sudanese government. We can write and call the White House and our congressmen every day. We can support people like Brian Stiedle, who tirelessly campaign for the lives of others. This man has seen a terror that we will never truly comprehend, and in his words, one that we should never have to comprehend.

You can find out more about Brian Stiedle and the film at

www.thedevilcameonhorseback.com

You can support the efforts to save the people of Darfur at

savedarfur.org



The Devil Came on Horseback - trailer



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KENNY

KENNY
Written and Directed by Clayton Jacobson

So I just got back from the South By Southwest film festival in Austin, Texas, and if there was one overriding theme that emerged from the well-selected array of documentaries and narrative films, it was that the United States government has failed us on every account of responsibility, be it from the war to the short-changing of interstate truckers. Given the state of the nation, i found it hard to disagree.

But neatly nudged into this well-informed glut of sociopolitical doom was a little-known Australian film called KENNY, a mockumentary with a pure heart of gold and a soul to boot. KENNY is the eponymous travails of a 35-year old Australian lug who calls himself a plumber, but what he really partakes in is the installation, maintenance and hauling of commercial Port-O-Potty units at large events and festivals. Kenny has seen (and smelled) it all, and his knowledge of his trade is stunning- from the chemical composition of scat to the psychological persona of individual clientèle. So good is Kenny that his company sends him to the holy grail the of Port-O-Potty industry: the annual "Pumper and Cleaner" Convention in Nashville, Tennessee.

Kenny is a working man's working man- no frills, hard working, and a compassionate father to his son with whom he shares custody with his ex-wife. He develops a particularly keen world view and philosophical outlook on human behaviour through the prism of waste, and his understanding of man leads him to be an altruistic leader for others in need. Along his travels, Kenny comes across people in need of guidance and companionship, and he is more than willing to oblige and accommodate. He is what we could confidently call a decent man, a humble man, a man whose care for his profession readily allows us to take daily conveniences for granted. Kenny is the man who indeed cleans up after us, and we never bothered to thank him or even acknowledge that he exists.

There is a touching and redeeming quality about this picture, as we see a man doing what he loves, even if we may scoff at it for being a particularly nasty occupation. Kenny helps those around him to the best of his knowledge, and when he runs out of knowledge he is a man who shows humility and simply asks for people to explain things to him. He has troubles like any other man- a sour relationship with his ex, a troubled and fractured family life, and the inability to balance any semblance of a personal life from his professional life. But amidst all of these things, Kenny still manages to take life as it comes, and he has the ability to get a good laugh out of his situation.

And we laugh along with him, and never at him. This is the true beauty of a film like KENNY, as it never demeans or judges its subjects. We see people as they really are- flawed, scared, and many times looking for that all encompassing band-aid to patch up our sorrows. There is a particular sequence that embodies the nonjudgmental approach of the film. The scene takes place at a massive horse racing event where the ultra-wealthy patrons of the race are juxtaposed to the people working behind the scenes. The bourgeoisie women turn their nose at Kenny as he brings his son to work, criticizing his parenting skills for bringing a child to such a filthy environment (the Port-O-Potty block at the race track). Later in the evening as Kenny and his son clean and pack up the toilet units, Kenny sees the same women, drunk on wine and champagne, vomiting and urinating in public. In any other instance a man would use the opportunity to give it back to the ladies, but Kenny takes the higher road. He has bigger fish to fry, which is getting his job done and getting his kid home.

If I didn't know this was a mockumentary, I would have instantly thought Kenny was a real man, in a real job, with real friends. Such is the skill of the lead performance by Shane Jacobson, who completely lives in his role. Kenny speaks with a thick, lispy Australian brogue and uses spot-on vernacular ('I'm busier than a one-armed brick layer in Baghdad"), and his body language paints a complete portrait of a kind man struggling with the naive safety and comfort of his own little world. To see Kenny come to America and see the country through his eyes is sheer wonderment, like watching a kid entering an endless amusement park for the very first time.

KENNY was one of the best films I saw at the SXSW Film Festival, and one of the better comedies I've seen in a long while. The film has already released in Australia, has won just about every prestigious award in its industry, and has made Kenny something of a folk hero in the Australian conscious. I wonder if and when this film would get a proper release in North America- one can only hope that it will be presented in a fair light, and avoid the pitfall of having some major studio remake it for an American audience. This would be a tragedy because while KENNY deals with a superficially stupid subject (poop), it is a very smart film with a very big heart. Kenny is a guy we can all relate to and in many instances is a guy we'd like to be: dedicated, kind, curious, and always carrying hope in his heart.

The film is available on Australian DVD, seek it out if you have a multisystem player.

LOST GIRLS (BOOK REVIEW)

LOST GIRLS
Written by Alan Moore
Illustrated by Melinda Gebbie

As an artist I wholeheartedly support free speech, as it is the backbone of discourse and therefore progress. I gleaned most of my feelings and philosophies on free speech by following the career of Alan Moore, the enfant terrible of the literary world and author of the books WATCHMEN, V FOR VENDETTA, TOM STRONG, BIG NUMBERS and FROM HELL among many others.

If some of those titles sound familiar it is because they were not only shitty movies, but they were spectacular works of sequential art, known to you and I as comic books. Alan Moore is almost exclusively a writer of comic books, those funny page stories that are children's Sunday morning fodder. Moore, along with his contemporaries Frank Miller and Neil Gaiman, was instrumental in the transformation of the medium from goofy satire to hard-hitting adult fiction. So influential was he that TIME magazine ranked Moore's WATCHMEN as one of the greatest literary works of the 20th century. The book was an all-out assault on the American Dream, the values of men and society, and Nietzsche's exploration of the superman. It, along with Moore's other works, remain remarkably consistent in their upholding of one tenet: the freedom of expression.

With his latest offering, LOST GIRLS, Alan Moore has offered probably his most significant statement on freedom of expression, and probably his most controversial. The book avoids previous sociopolitical dissections and goes after the most misunderstood and maligned subjects of censorship: sex. The expression of sex and sexuality in society has a troubled history, one that is conflicting at the most base level. It is the eternal question: sex is something we all do, we are born with and are familiar with our naked bodies, they why can it not be shown in art without censorship?

This is the classic debate of sacred versus profane, and Moore dives into the debate by centering LOST GIRLS on three of the most sacred icons of English literature: Alice from Alice in Wonderland, Wendy from Peter Pan, and Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz. At the beginning of the tale all three of our heroines meet in an Austrian chalet at the dawn of World War I. The three ladies, now a bit older and wiser, share their life stories, revisiting the classic journeys that made them such beloved icons.

Moore and his artistic collaborator Melinda Gebbie humanize the ladies by retelling the stories through the prism of sexual repression, and employing perhaps the most obviously shocking genre to showcase these tales. LOST GIRLS, while stunningly rendered, is a work of pure outright pornography. Moore and Gebbie spare no time in distancing themselves from works of erotica by making the three heroines engage in just about every act in the sexual universe, from the most common to the heinously taboo. No detail is spared, and the book is outright obscene: Dorothy is fucked up the ass while jacking off a horse, Captain Hook unloads on Wendy while she's fucking Peter Pan, and Alice is kept in a drugged-out, zombie-like state while the Red Queen forces her to rape her servant girls into submission.

To say I was disturbed reading this is an understatement: the knowledge of these three pure-at-heart heroines simply having sex would alone suffice to make me cringe. But there is meaning within all of this calculated desecration, and a great one at that. Moore neatly sums it up through the words of a character who reads aloud from a pornographic text, citing his own observations as the following:

"It is quite monstrous... except that they are fictions, as old as the page they appear upon, no less, no more. Fiction and fact: Only madmen and magistrates cannot discriminate between them."

For all its obscenity, LOST GIRLS is a monumentally important piece of work because it tests us in every facet of our being- it tests our decency, it makes us realize that as humans we do have desires that we act upon, that there needs to be an academic and intrinsic understanding as to what is fiction and what is reality. If art is a mirror then we must never manipulate its reflection, as we owe it to ourselves and our collective freedom to see and experience the truth.

It may be easy to dismiss a work like LOST GIRLS as simple shock art, but we must ask ourselves- why are we shocked by this art? What moral fibers are being jangled by a frank and honest portrayal of sex? Moore's use of angelic and disinfected characters from the English literary lexicon forces the point even further- these women were not imagined as real women but as manipulative icons of puritanical goodness, demonstrating that the selfless and the sexless were to benefit in life, and while those who bowed to temptation were to be forever banished and condemned. Is it so bad for us to think that Dorothy had a libido? That Wendy may have found Peter Pan to be sexually attractive? That Alice may have on occasion masturbated for some pleasure?

Moore ends the story with a collective orgasm between the three heroines, and it is a release far beyond physical sexuality. It is art's declaration that real people exist, that they belong in our discussions, that every facet of them must be explored to find the truth in ourselves. We cannot have these important discussions if we censor ourselves, if we allow others to think for us, if we submit to the demands of those who are afraid of the true power of the human spirit. Censorship is poison, and honesty, while at times brutal and offensive, will always lead to positive change.

I fear that LOST GIRLS will ultimately get filed away as liberal smut, along with the works of the Marquis DeSade and Anais Nin. Moore and Gebbie laboured for almost sixteen years to bring this work to fruition, and their hard work and thoughtfulness is indicative from the high quality of the tome. I personally refute Moore's notion that it is a complete work of pornography, as pornography is typically a violent, sensory overload that has no other ulterior motive than to provide hollow satisfaction. LOST GIRLS is a work of highly compelling fiction, one whose payoff is not a cum shot but rather a realization of human nature and the puritanical forces trying to suppress it.

I recommend the book wholeheartedly with the knowledge that it is obscene, that it contains highly objectionable material, and that it is vastly inappropriate for children. But let me reaffirm that it is not smut. Far from it. LOST GIRLS is an important work, and those with an open mind will find their perspectives on truth delightfully challenged.

PAPRIKA

This is probably the last of my continuing mini-blog series on films overlooked by the Academy Awards...

PAPRIKA
Written and directed by Satoshi Kon

I've got to hand it to the Japanese- they remain the guiding force of philosophy in modern cinema, with almost every Japanese film bringing up the question of our existence, and the meaning of conscious versus subconscious. Perhaps no other sub genre has explored this more than anime, or "japanimation" as we Americans have so ungraciously dubbed it. Anime films like PATLABOR, NEON GENESIS EVANGELION, WINGS OF HONNEMIASE, GHOST IN THE SHELL and the seminal AKIRA have all pondered upon the existence of life in an alternate realm, suggesting that man and the constructs of man are just empty vessels for some greater, smarter, and ultimately more unforgiving force. This is a complex 21st century discussion of god going on here, one that extends far beyond basic cyberpunk and doom politics. And the best part is that this is all going on in what has been unfairly deemed as a child's medium: animation.

Writer / director Satoshi Kon too has participated in this discussion, but his films are of a different ilk than those of his cohorts. Kon typically shies away from digital armageddon and cyber megalopolis' of the future, opting instead for stories based in today's reality, using the vector of the human psyche in place of the technological behemoth. His works are staggeringly powerful, from the Hitchcockian PERFECT BLUE, to the touching TOKYO GODFATHERS and most recently to his magnum opus television series, the brilliant PARANOIA AGENT. Each of these feature alternate realities in some permutation, all of them created within the minds of the protagonists. It has become his hallmark, his stamp, his trademark.

PAPRIKA, Kon's latest animated feature, ups the ante by incorporating an element of technology, but the battle is still fought within the human mind. The film chronicles the development of a "dreamcatcher"machine, the DC-Mini, that allows scientists to enter, record and observe people's dreams. The machine was developed in part by Dr. Atsuko Chiba, a psychiatrist who uses the machine to treat her patients' anxiety. When in the minds of her patients, Chiba takes on the avatar of a red haired sprite named Paprika, and travels to the source of the anxiety to extricate it.

All hell breaks loose when one of the DC-Mini prototypes are stolen. The perpetrators use the device to enter the dreams of individuals, and they proceed to plant a dream so terrifying that it turns its host into a brain dead zombie. It is essentially a mind bomb, an act of psychological guerrilla terrorism. Chiba and her cohorts, including real-life psychiatric detective and former patient detective Kogawa Toshimi, all enter the dream realm to investigate and track down the perpetrators. They soon realize that much more is at stake here- through the advent of technology, the perps have found a way to tap the collective conscious of the public, employing a philosophy of "if enough people dream it to be real, then indeed it shall become real." Soon the lines between reality and dream begin to blur, and the destruction of Tokyo hangs in the balance.

PAPRIKA utilizes the semiotic lexicon of popular culture more effectively than any other film before it, live action or animated. In its dream sequences it employs cinematic icons, pop-culture idols and signifiers, and figures of popular worship and turns them against mankind. Those things we once revered and praised become the elements of our demise- it is a proposition that is both terrifying and appropriate, as we further sell our opinions and individuality to the corporate conglomerates.

PAPRIKA is powerful stuff, and it is brilliantly executed through the animated medium. This is a film which could not be successfully done in live action, because it uses the perceived innocence of the animation against us- how can a cute, cuddly animated figure be so destructive? How can the iconic porcelain greeting cats be the agents of the apocalypse? Even with the dark subplots (and they are very dark, disturbingly dark), the true terror of PAPRIKA is the realization that we are ultimately the creators of our own demise, and this arises in a lack of discipline and ethics. Every technology has the potential of being abused, and given the history of man, we show no signs of learning from our past mistakes.

Which leads into an interesting observation about Japanese popular art and culture. We must not forget that the Japanese are the only society on Earth to experience nuclear armageddon. Within this frame of mind it is then no surprise that most sci-fi anime films ponder the abuses of technology, abuses that lead to not just the death of the world, but the complete vaporization of it. Everything will die- nature, conscious, flesh and bone. I remember when I visited the Auschwitz and Birkenau concentrations camps in Poland, I saw an inscription above one of the doors that read "he who does not learn from his past is most likely to repeat it." Which is what makes films like PAPRIKA so important- they are reminders that because of our irresponsible deployment of technology, we have the ability to destroy existence in its entirety. And despite the development of this technology, all it takes is for a collective subconscious agreement (a virulent dream message) for us to employ this destructive technology. The catalyst can be one crazy man (Kim Jong-Il) or one deluded, violent soul (our President) or one collective society desperate to find a solution (take your pick in the world) to override common sense, common law, and respect.

PAPRIKA hammers this message down in brilliant juxtapositions of visuals and storytelling- unlike the recent GHOST IN THE SHELL 2 or APPLESEED, it does not get bogged down in philosophical banter (with brilliant animation who wants to see talking heads?). PAPRIKA is a cautionary tale that comes at you straight on with eye-popping visuals and action that gets right to the point. It's also refreshing to see an anime film that doesn't have demeaning, overtly sexualized female characters- generally the best anime films don't, but it has always been disturbing to see the level of sexual violence in anime, or more so in the adult subgenre called hentai films. There are some deep seeded issues going on in those films which frankly, I'm frightened to even dare explore.

All that said, PAPRIKA is a tremendous piece of work, and of the better animated films in recent years. Sure there have been films that have been more technologically savvy and advanced, in fact all of this year's nominees are cutting edge CGI animated films, but none of them take the risks of storytelling to become good films. We've seen the stories of CARS and HAPPY FEET a million times before, executed in the same fashion, only with more bells and whistles in each incarnation. A nomination for an anime film is long, long overdue, as it remains among the edgiest and smartest genre of films being made on the planet. We owe it to ourselves to spread the word of these films, because they are entertaining, they are marvelous to look at, and most importantly, they are relevant.

Snubbed Oscar Nomination: Best Animated Feature Film

And so this ends my mini-blog, there were two more films I didn't get to review, simply because I don't have the time. But for reference, here are the other pictures:

THE KING AND THE CLOWN (Snubbed: Best Foreign Film)
THE HOST (Snubbed: Best Visual Effects)

I'll be posting my predictions soon. Thanks for reading!

INLAND EMPIRE

Continuing my mini blog series on films overlooked by the Academy Awards...

INLAND EMPIRE
Written and Directed by David Lynch

Is it really possible to review a David Lynch film? I think the only film in his cache that I was able to clearly describe to someone was THE STRAIGHT STORY , and that's because it was, oddly enough, a pretty straight film.

Which doesn't mean Lynch's films aren't brilliant, because they definitely are. He is America's other greatest living filmmaker (Marty Scorcese being the other), and he has assembled a body of work that represents the inner America, the hidden beast, the devil under the mask. Lynch's surreal nightmares shock us not just for their horrific, painterly beauty, but also because as an audience we somehow connect to his characters. It's strange when you think about it- how can we possibly connect with psycho midgets, nympho lesbians, sociopath geniuses, and the utter depravities of the flesh?

It's because these are still people- people who feel pain, like you and me.

INLAND EMPIRE has no shortage of the aforementioned motley crew, and it amps it up tenfold (there is a suburban family in the film with...well with bunny rabbit heads...I'm not kidding). Weirdness aside, INLAND EMPIRE is a stunning dissection of the chaos of hope. Now if that sounds abstract, that's because it is- it's about all I could infer as to what this movie was actually about. All I know is that at any given point in the film, I had no idea what was happening (from a logic base), but I sure as hell knew what I was feeling.

INLAND EMPIRE begins straightforward enough, sort of picking up where MULHOLLAND DRIVE left off....midway. Struggling actress (Laura Dern, still as amazingly gorgeous as she was in WILD AT HEART) auditions and is accepted in a film production in Los Angeles. Once the read-through of the script begins, the film's producer (Harry Dean Stanton in classic creep mode) warns his cast and crew that the script they are reading might be cursed. How does he know? The people who last worked on it all died. Worse yet, they were all killed.

The story from there on gets murky and is difficult to summarize, but like MULLHOLLAND DRIVE it delves into the dark, molested twin brother of LA, exploring its filth and its fury. The "story" weaves from dream to dream, fucking with our minds, and even replicating the mechanics of a brain that doesn't really know what it wants to do when in times of peril. Anthropologically we have two responses to danger, fight or flight. INLAND EMPIRE is a tortured mind weighing its options between the two, trying to figure out what's worse. Lynch submerges us in worlds of sexual and sensory deprivation, instilling within us a realization of what we really are: soft machines.

And taking us on this improbable and indescribable journey is Laura Dern, giving perhaps the best performance of the year. Helen Mirren has nothing on Dern, and never since Monica Bellucci in IRREVERSIBLE have I seen an actress give a more fearless performance. Dern's character goes through many metamorphoses in the film, and Dern sells us on every incarnation, plumbing the depths of each character, looking for that element so desperate, so hopeful, and so completely and utterly lost. It's a performance that has to be seen to be believed, and it too defies description other than sheer brilliance.

I don't know. Perhaps I'm not doing the best job of selling this film, but believe me, it is not unwatchable despite its lack of outward cogent structure. INLAND EMPIRE is one of those cinematic treats that allows us to get lost in another world without it being frustrating. These films are rare and only come maybe once every two years, and the last film to wear this ubiquitous crown was THE PIANO TUNER OF EARTHQUAKES by The Brothers Quay, and before that it was the random works of Peter Greenaway, Stan Brakhage and Chris Marker. What these films also have in common is an unheralded artistry, a mastery of framing and composition that completely envelopes the viewer. Lynch is to be applauded because he achieved such magic without the benefit of an extravagant budget. Lynch shot the entire film himself on a consumer grade digital camera (a Sony PD-150 for all you gearheads) and edited it on Final Cut Pro. The film was shot for over three years in LA and Poland, and is a clear demonstration that ingenuity will always prevail over budget. This is a magical experience, a more lucid dream than PAN'S LABYRINTH, and something so inextricably weird that it never once fails to hold our curiosity.

We need more films like this, films that know no boundaries and make us question our social and biological logic. Films like INLAND EMPIRE make us question everything, and rare is the art that can do this on such an utterly comprehensive and absurd level. It also reminds us that there really is no such thing as normal- there are a lot weird people out there. And you don't need to see a Lynch film to find them- just get up, go to your bathroom, and take a long look in the mirror.

Do you like what you see?

Snubbed Oscar Nomination: Best Actress in a Lead Role (Laura Dern)

BLACK FRIDAY

Continuing my mini blog series on films overlooked by the Academy Awards...

I'm not even sure if Anurag Kashyap's BLACK FRIDAY would even qualify for this year's Oscars- it just released worldwide last week, despite the fact that it was made almost two years ago.

So there are two stories for BLACK FRIDAY- the film itself, and the aftermath of the film. Both stories are pertinent to the message, which is what makes the film so incredible, so award worthy, and so deserving of our praise and patronage, although I'm sure Anurag himself would want to avoid such praise and let the film stand on it's own accords- that's just him, I'll praise the film regardless.:o)

BLACK FRIDAY is a no-holds-barred investigation into the 1993 Bombay serial bomb blasts. In what was initially seen as an act of religious fundamentalist terrorism was later uncovered to be a conspiracy of massive proportions, rooted in organizations of various faiths and beliefs. The film is a direct adaptation of S Hussein Zaidi's book, which chronicles the exhaustive police investigation handled by two primary detectives, Additional Commissioner of Police Rakesh Maria, and former Mumbai police commissioner Amarjit Singh Samra. The story wavers between the investigations of the authorities and the criminals who masterminded the entire event. There is a smattering of testimonials and experiences of the Bombay public (using actual news footage), the inclusion of which gives the story its immediacy and veracity.

Kashyap, who also wrote the screenplay (and is arguably one of India's premiere screenwriters), gets a lion's share of the credit for the vision of the film. The script is highly fractured and complex, shifting chronology and locations in a fractal pattern that resembles the very chaos of the initial bomb blast (depicted without reservation in a stunning opening sequence). The level of lucid organization to make a film like this is staggering, matched in recent times only by the likes of PULP FICTION, MEMENTO, and most recently BABEL. High praise and credit also goes to editor Aarti Bajaj, who faced the daunting task of weaving a multitude of stories together, and executed the film flawlessly. The cinematography by Nataraja Balasubramaniam is top notch- the camera never wavers and it captures the grime, the dampness, and the rambling wreck of an organism that is Bombay. Overall, from every facet of filmmaking, BLACK FRIDAY is a tremendous achievement, and a breath of fresh air for Indian cinema.

And Indian cinema has been unfair to the film. BLACK FRIDAY has been saddled with the 800 pound gorilla that is Bollywood- audiences outside of India, when confronted with an Indian film, instantly make the assumption that it is a four hour melodramatic mishmash with colourful song and dance numbers with impossibly attractive people doing impossibly improbable things. Meanwhile in India, audiences will be faced with a film that lacks melodramatic sentiment, that does not have a neatly wrapped up ending, that won't entertain them in the orthodox Bollywood all-Indian way. But let's get this straight- BLACK FRIDAY is an Indian film, and despite the fact that it was made in Bombay, it is the furthest thing from a Bollywood film. There are no songs, no dances (the score however by the band Indian Ocean is excellent and appropriate). This is a worldly film, an important film, one that has relevance to Americans, Europeans and just about anyone else in the world. This is a story of terrorism, its motivations and manipulations, and of the good people who strive to seek justice at any cost. The film reaffirms that there are good, honest people in the world, and also hammers down the point that there are plenty of assholes in the world too.

The film, above everything else, is OBJECTIVE. Quite a rarity, something which was last seen in Paul Greengrass' masterful BLOODY SUNDAY and historically in Gillo Pontecorvo's THE BATTLE OF ALGIERS. In cinema today we hardly ever get to see the emotion, characterization, and depth of the other side of the terrorist divide. A terror organization has their own justified motivation- for better or worse- and once that motivation is researched, we can try to comprehend their bombastic logic. And maybe that's the frightening thing about objectivity- when we see the motivations of a terrorist, we are afraid that we just might understand why they are doing what they do. BLACK FRIDAY and the films of its ilk ask the viewers to not sympathize with those who wreak havoc, but rather empathize with them, and with that knowledge a diplomatic discussion can begin.

Which leads into the second story of BLACK FRIDAY. The film was made over two years ago, but was then subsequently banned from release by the Bombay High Courts. The reasoning was that in Kashyap's screenplay, he did not fictionalize the characters- he used their real names. The court, for whatever illogical reason, had decided that this was unacceptable..

If we are to talk of corruption, than this is it. Kashyap correctly cited that Zaidi's book on the subject, which also names names, had been in print for many years. The book was accessible to the public for ages, so if there was opinions to be swayed, it was probably already done a long time ago. Despite this logic, the ban stuck, until just recently. Maybe the courts feared the truth, or maybe they understood the power of mass media and its ability to influence the public. Perhaps many of their friends, those with the ability to buy influence and power, would be shown in a negative light. If they were, they they probably deserved to be.

A film like BLACK FRIDAY can only benefit the public, for they can understand the workings of the forces that seek to terrorize our planet. Understanding and education helps to abolish fear, which is the single most paralyzing emotion in human existence. The dissemination of fear provides us with the strength and courage to take these opposing forces head on, and therefore an earnest attempt to rid the world of this scourge can be made. I read once that the US Department of Defense still uses THE BATTLE OF ALGIERS in its training programs, because of its surgical breakdown of terrorist operations. BLACK FRIDAY can also be such a blueprint, for it is uncompromising in its accuracy and its heart is in the right place. This truly is a seminal piece of work, and belongs in the top ranks as one the most influential and meaningful Indian films ever made. Hats off to Anurag Kashyap and his band of outsiders, as they have shown a level of courage and determination that we can all learn from.

P.S. Keep an eye out for Anurag's next film, entitled NO SMOKING. I visited him on the set and it's a complete mindfuck of a movie, one that will make waves in the Indian film industry. Provided some asshole doesn't get it banned. :o)



Snubbed Oscar Nominations: Best Editing (Aarti Bajaj) and Best Foreign Film

THE WIND THAT SHAKES THE BARLEY

Continuing my mini blog series on films overlooked by the Academy Awards....

THE WIND THAT SHAKES THE BARLEY
Directed by Ken Loach

Perhaps there is no more underrated director in the world than Ken Loach. This, despite the fact that he garnered the Golden Palm Award at last year's Cannes Film Festival for his crowning achievement, THE WIND THAT SHAKES THE BARLEY. Even the top directorial prize in the world hasn't been able given him the wide acclaim he so richly deserves. He continues to rile critics and the public alike, if not for his incendiary subjects but for his blunt and unforgiving pursuit of the truth.

Loach, like his British countryman Mike Leigh, has an innate ability to capture the times and travails of the common man. He finds truth and passion in the seemingly uninspired and mundane, and throughout his career, he has captured the veracity of middle class struggle with panache and unparalleled skill. His films MY NAME IS JOE, HIDDEN AGENDA and FAMILY LIFE take a documentary / journalistic approach to fiction, a convention that is only applied with equal skill by the magnificent Dardenne Brothers of Belgium in their films ROSETTA, LE FILS and L'ENFANT.

It seems appropriate then that Loach's latest film be about the origins and rise of the Irish Republican Army and Ireland's fight for independence. Loach has taken a tremendous amount of flak from British media and public who claim his film as being anti-British, but in reality he abides to the journalistic adage that he is simply telling the truth. After viewing THE WIND THAT SHAKES THE BARLEY and reading up on the conflict, I take Loach's word and respect him tremendously for it.

In 1920, Ireland was being ravaged by violence enacted upon locals by the Blacks and Tans, which was a Royal Irish Constabulary Reserve Force designated by the British Parliament to suppress revolutionaries in Ireland. Two brothers, Damien (a career defining performance by Cillian Murphy) and Teddy (Liam Cunningham) set aside their ideological differences to take arms against the British and fight for their country's independence. Once a peace treaty is agreed upon, the brothers are pitted against one another in a second ideological battle, one that divides the brothers just as the people of Ireland are divided in the Irish Civil War.

Upon viewing this film I realized I was watching something urgent and rare. It was a feeling I can only lay claim to three times before in my history of watching films, when I saw Gillo Pontecorvo's THE BATTLE OF ALGIERS, Roland Joffe's THE KILLING FIELDS, and Anurag Kashyap's BLACK FRIDAY (which I will write about in a later entry in this blog series). These films all tackled sociopolitical issues that were relevant to the successes and caveats to war and nation building, and are invaluable documents that must be viewed by a voting public. Loach's film (and Anurag's film) is no different, and its importance to the American and British public is paramount in regards to the future direction of the undeclared civil war in Iraq.

After the peace accord in Ireland was signed, Ireland split into two factions, the Irish Free State Army and the anti-treaty Irish Republican Army. These were brothers in blood, and yet their ideological divide led to the destruction of their country, the killings of innocents, and ultimately one of the bloodiest conflicts in world history. Loach and screenwriter Paul Laverty's decision to use the brothers Damien and Teddy as a metaphor for the divide is a wise choice, as it imparts a humanity and a point of reference for all, for there is perhaps no greater savagery than blood killing blood. Because we emotionally relate to the characters, the ideological battle is one we invest in, and its outcome bears the weight of tragedy that goes beyond simple filmmaking.

Loach's cinematographer Barry Ackroyd facilitates all of this, his camera drinking the beauty and terror of the Irish landscape. The camera absorbs the emotion, and along with Loach's subtle direction the actors are free to explore onscreen, they are allowed to improvise and snub lines, and they are truly in the moment. The choices made by Cillian Murphy in particular are outstanding, as he deftly toes the line between loyalist, pragmatist and survivor. Murphy utilises his entire body in his performance, and every twitch, convulsion and hesitation tells volumes. it is one of the best performances of the year, and a cementing of Murphy's place in the pantheon of the world's best actors.

Detractors of the film claim that it serves no other purpose than to inflame old conflicts, to rabble rouse and possibly jeopardise the peace in the region today by reigniting anger from wounds recently healed. This is the furthest thing from the truth, as films like THE WIND THAT SHAKES THE BARLEY and BLACK FRIDAY are meant to provide criticism and foresight to TODAY's conflicts, as it is no longer a surprise that history indeed repeats itself.

Iraq has spiralled into sectarian violence, a civil war between Sunni and Shiite that is divided upon lines of ideology and political representation. After the US and British armies declared victory with the dethroning of Saddam Hussein, they ill calculated the troubled fraternal relationship of the religious sects. These are the ghosts of Ireland, of Algeria, of Chile and India, and is the current reality of not just Iraq but also Sri Lanka, Palestine, and much of Africa. We need reminders, no matter how blunt or incendiary, of the wrongs of our past. It is naive to think that George Bush or Tony Blair would see a film like THE WIND THAT SHAKES THE BARLEY, but it is a more realistic hope that the public that votes for these leaders would see them. It takes effort, it takes an open mind and an educated base for this to happen. I have faith that it can, if the right people step up and support it unequivocally.

THE WIND THAT SHAKES THE BARLEY is not a flawless film, but it is direly important. It is moving, touching, powerfully acted and impeccably crafted, and that alone makes it one of the best films of the year. It is its message that makes it one of the most important films of recent memory.

Snubbed Oscar Nominations: Best Picture / Best Foreign Film, Best Director (Ken Loach), Best Actor (Cillian Murphy) and Best Cinematography (Barry Ackroyd)

NOTE: This film will be released soon in the US, it is currently only available though Region 2 DVD.

THE THREE BURIALS OF MELQUIADES ESTRADA

Continuing my series on films overlooked by the Academy Awards.

THE THREE BURIALS OF MELQUIADES ESTRADA

A friend of mine passed away nine years ago- he committed suicide. In that time I've been always trying to comprehend and deal with his death. I was the last of his friends to see him alive, and I had left him early to catch a train. I often think to myself that if I had stuck around an hour longer, maybe we could have talked over the things which were troubling him. And after his death I think to myself that there were so many unfinished conversations, so many things to say, so many things to discover. I don't know if I want to have that conversation more for the benefit of my friend, or for the benefit of myself.

Maybe then this is why I made a deeper connection to Tommy Lee Jones' directorial debut, THE THREE BURIALS OF MELQUIADES ESTRADA. Set on the Texas / Mexican border, the film tells the simple story of a Mexican cowboy, Melquiades Estrada, who is wrongfully killed by a US border patrolman (played by Barry Pepper). The man's friend, Pete Perkins, played with laconic brilliance by Jones himself, abducts the patrolman and takes him on a journey with Melquiades' rotting corpse over the border to give Melquiades a proper burial.

And what a journey it is, bringing in shades of Dante's Inferno across the blazing Texas landscape, which is stunningly photographed by Chris Menges and a character unto itself. The land is fraught with dangers- snakes, heat, dehydration, and sensory deprivation. Pete makes the patrolman experience all of these in the worst ways, delivering a dual message of both repentance and of the dangers that illegal immigrants face when crossing the border.

Which brings to note that this is also a highly political film, trouncing the issues of immigration and US foreign policy. Jones takes the high road and avoids political grandstanding, and screenwriter Guillermo Arriaga does a masterful job of weaving the politics into the narrative. Rather than telling us the problems of US immigration policy, Jones and Arriaga show us the effects of said policies. It's extremely effective and not overpowering, and it serves its purpose well.

There is so much in this script that is never said but rather implied- feelings of friendship, kinship, and belonging. The singular drive that Pete has to give dignity to his friend is both inspiring and maddening, we wonder while watching the film if this journey is for the purpose of the dead or the living. Jones is almost possessed in his portrayal of Pete, a man who toes the line between good and evil, a man who seemingly has no emotions but is driven for the need to experience feelings. He is the anti-hero in the classic Western tradition, a man bound by credo but conflicted by his desires. Jones plays the character with amazing precision and total immersion, and it is one of the year's finest performances.*

There is the running theme of loyalty and repentance throughout the film. The side characters in the story are all caught in webs of deceit, infidelity, and ultimately dissatisfaction. We have cops who by profession are to do good, but in their self obsessions they break almost every moral law. We have lonely housewives who want to do the right thing for their families and their lives, but they succumb to the nature of the territory- idle hands indeed make the devil's work.

Everyone in this film is guilty of some wrong doing, be it legal or moral. And this is the grand injustice of Melquiades' death- his sentence was delivered upon him simply because he was himself, a dark skinned man who lived on the border, an instant target of a racist stereotype, a bullseye painted upon his heart. And in this wrongful act, Pete finds one act of goodness that he can carry out and claim as his own. Pete is selfish in his endeavour, and his final realization at the end of the film is pure cinematic magic.

If anything, this is a tale of pure Americana, of what we desire to be as people, and in turn a portrait of who we really are. We are searching for something that validates us as good people, we feel guilty at times for our privilege, and at other times we freely abuse that privilege. Watching this film made me think more about what I wanted in that final conversation with my friend, and it made me realize that some things are perhaps better left unsaid. Sometimes just to know that your heart is bleeding is good enough.

Snubbed Oscar nominations: Best Actor in a Lead Role (Tommy Lee Jones), Best Director (Tommy Lee Jones)

*Jones received the Best Actor award at Cannes

THE PROPOSITION

THE PROPOSITION is a gritty Australian Western directed by John Hillcoat and starring Guy Pearce, Danny Huston, and Ray Winstone.

Before I get into the film let me just say that Ray Winstone is probably one of the most underrated actors working today. Some of my favourite films of all time feature fearless performances by the gutsy Winstone, including Tim Roth's THE WAR ZONE, Jonathan Glazer's SEXY BEAST, and now THE PROPOSITION. Winstone has mastered the humanist tough guy, the man who must be hard for his profession but fears to bring that rage and jagged lifestyle home.

Such is the part he plays in THE PROPOSITION as Captain Stanley, a British officer in charge of bringing peace and order to an upstart village deep in the Australian Outback. In particular the town has been terrorized by a clan of Irish immigrant brothers, the Brothers Burns. Captain Stanley has his own perceptions of how justice should be carried out, and in a blistering opening sequence he manages to capture two of the brothers, Mikey (played by Richard Wilson) and Charlie (sternly portrayed by Guy Pearce). The real target however is older brother Arthur (Danny Huston), and Captain Stanley makes a proposition to Charlie: find and kill his brother Arthur, and Mikey will be spared from hanging in the gallows.

It is a simplistic bare bones plot, but the masterful script by Nick Cave (yes he of the Bad Seeds and The Birthday Party fame) builds such a cloud of miasma around it that the story plumbs into the depths of human loyalty and survival. There is much more here at play that we are led to believe- the dynamics and relationships between man and man (the whites versus the Aboriginals), man versus nature (the unforgiving Outback) and ultimately, man versus himself. The script is flawless, one of the top works of screenwriting in recent times. No kidding.

The performances are pitch perfect, with the actors all hitting the appropriate note between plain melancholy and desperate humanism. Guy Pearce delivers one of his best performances in this film, despite not saying much. His real dialogue is internal, as he must negotiate the proposition with his mind, his heart, and his soul. Imagine- is there truly an appropriate way to kill one's brother? But perhaps the most amazing performance is a cameo by the legendary John Hurt, playing a washed up, racist bounty hunter. Hurt takes Nick Cave's words and transforms them into sonnets of beautiful filth, the ramblings of a homeless poet, of a man whose existence has done little but aspires to be one with the gods.

Nick Cave has also composed the music to the film, and it plays the omniscient narrator, the unforgiving god who pens the destiny of these troubled men. It is a remarkable composition, reminiscent of ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST wherein Ennio Morricone designed a specific theme for each character, an operatic entrance that comes to define the ambitions, desires, and pathos of the individual. Song plays an integral part of the film, and it parlays quite possibly the only singular moments of true beauty in an otherwise bleak landscape. These men find solace and meaning in art, and they try to manipulate the truth of art to disastrous consequences.

Even more striking is the portrayal of the Aboriginals, as a fiercely independent race of people who will bow down only by force of the gun or by imprisonment, or by death. The film pulls no punches in showing the violent relationship between the natives and the occupiers, and we are given full indication that Australia has been engaged in a silent, bloody war that will never see full resolution or justice.

And that's ultimately what the film is about- justice. In our post 9/11 era we've twisted and confounded the notion of justice, reverted back to the Hammurabian code of law, and dispensed with the common dignity of men. The violence in the film is graphic and rightfully so- in order to show injustice, to show an abuse of power, then true suffering must be on display. Director Hillcoat and his cinematographer Benoit Delhomme never shy away from harsh realities- they show Australia in her splendor and her squalor, they show her as a complete organism.

This is a Western in the classic tradition, a tale of vengeance that would make John Ford, Sam Peckinpah and Sergio Leone proud, the finest Western since UNFORGIVEN. But the film manages to go one level deeper than Eastwood's masterpiece by adding a true shade of humanity- where Eastwood's vision of lawless men is bleak, Hillcoat and Cave see these men as ordinary men, despite the fact that their souls will be forever damned.

THE PROPOSITION is a difficult watch for its violence and grim straightforward approach, but it is entirely riveting. My attention never wavered once, and every frame of this film was meticulously composed and well thought out. This was hands down one of the best films of 2006, and if you are willing to take a journey to the darker depths of men, then you owe it to yourself to see this film.

Geetings!

So this is the official, sort of, start of my dedicated movie blog. I had begun writing film reviews on my other sites, and I've accumulated enough to the point where I felt the reviews needed their own forum.

There's no true chronology to the reviews, I tend to review films as I see them, and many of my observations tend to glean from the events of our current time. At some point I may come up with a categorization system for these reviews, but for the time being I kind of like the random association of the movies selected (hence the name of this blog).

Enjoy the reviews, and more than the review itself I alwayd love getting feedback, recommendations, rebuttals, opinions and criticisms. It's the discussions and passion for cinema which at times is a greater rush than cinema itself, for this is a communal medium, a social medium, a universal thread of storytelling.

Here's to a great future ahead, and keep watching great films!