Author: nlclement

Masterpiece. I loved every single moment of this brilliant piece of work. I viewed this film once, roughly 25 years ago, and it went way over my head. Not this time. Yet another reminder of how skilled Hal Ashby was as a director. This is an endlessly funny, heartfelt, and genuine piece of work, a film that dips into the spiritual towards the end without ever being preachy or overly sentimental. The final shot and final spoken line of dialogue were note-perfect. Peter Sellers was extraordinary as Chance the Gardner, and everyone around him provided wonderful supporting work, especially Shirley MacLaine and Melvyn Douglas. Caleb Deschanel’s fantastic and darkly lit cinematography stressed wide master shots as opposed to an overabundance of close-ups, and as a result, one is left with a sense of the grand (especially when inside of that obscenely large mansion) while the screenplay stressed the intimate. As usual for an Ashby film, the tone was a perfectly calibrated mixture of quirky, dark comedy and straight forward drama, while Jerzy Kosinski’s wise and graceful screenplay, which he adapted from his own novel with uncredited assistance from Robert C. Jones, provided all of the characters with exceptional individual scenes and more than once chance to provide some big moments. This film is so sensitively observed at almost every turn, and it’s easy to see why it has inspired so many other films that have come after it; the Forrest Gump connection was something that sprung to mind very early, as the naiveté on the part of Sellers’ character seemed to be some sort of direct inspiration. There are so many fantastic bits in this film: Sellers leaving his house for the first time to the jazzy tune of Eumir Deodato’s remix of Also sprach Zarathustra and having any number of interesting encounters; the dryly hilarious meeting Sellers has with Jack Warden (portraying a flummoxed President of the United States); the entire subplot of various government agencies and media members trying to find background info on Sellers; MacLaine having a go with herself on that bearskin rug with Sellers passively watching TV in the background. I could go on and on with this film, as every scene felt true and correct, even with the overall plot straining credibility at times. But I didn’t care about that; the heart and soul of this movie is what makes it special. And in only two scenes, a crazy amount of Ruth Attaway POWER – her speech in the lobby of that long-stay hotel stung with piercing wit. Viewed via Blu-ray, and the transfer was spotless.

I’m always wholly fascinated by this film, and it’s something I feel that’s worth revisiting every year because of how it uses aesthetics to drive the plot. Boarding Gate is genre-hopper Olivier Assayas (Carlos, Summer Hours, Irma Vep) doing a sort-of-Michael Mann-esque anti-thriller that’s more cerebral than crammed with action. It’s the kind of low-key head-scratcher that doesn’t make any ripples in the theaters, but that people end up discovering at home. It’s a naughty little film, with some kinky sex and bloody gun-play, all steeped in the traditions of the femme fatale and international crime noir. Not as interested in coherent plot developments or definitive answers, Boarding Gate operates in an almost dream-like state which heightens the actions of its sleazy characters. But what makes the film worth watching has more to do with what it doesn’t do, then what it does do.

Asia Argento is Sandra, an ex-call girl with a history of drug problems and a taste for S&M. She’s working a legit job in Paris for some sort of international importer/exporter, while also conducting shady drug deals on the side. Her old lover, Miles (Michael Madsen), also happens to be her ex-pimp; the two have a very, very sordid past. She meets up with Miles again and it’s clear that there is still some heat between the two of them. What Miles doesn’t know is that Sandra is also carrying on an affair with her boss, the quietly mysterious Lester (Carl Ng), who runs his company with his wife Sue (Kelly Lin), who may be up to more than she lets on. Someone gets murdered and Sandra flees to Beijing, where she settles on the idea of opening some sort of nightclub. I may be missing something but that might be due to the way certain events in this film are explained. As the film nears its conclusion, Boarding Gate builds to an almost certainly grim finale; what finally transpires will be a surprise for most viewers.

Assayas is most interested in style, tone, ambiguous characters, and the chance to photograph his sexy leading lady in black lace panties while she brandishes a pistol. The fun that Assayas has with the ingredients of crime noir is presented right from the beginning. Argento, not the world’s most amazing actress, has a clear-cut physical confidence in front of a camera that is cold, hard, and real. In this respect, it’s not far off from the work done by Rebecca Romijn in Brian De Palma’s masterpiece Femme Fatale. Argento’s dialogue, much of which is delivered in a gravelly whisper, is heavy with symbolism and often feels a bit portentous. She pouts her lips, tilts her head, and genuinely looks like she’d be up for just about anything. She’s a true femme fatale that De Palma or Hitchcock would love. Madsen, who never met a slime-ball character he couldn’t ace in his sleep, is perfectly cast as Miles, a guy who’ll never be able to keep his shit straight. One scene between the two of them, involving oral sex and a leather belt, is perverted and hysterical in equal measure, while also being rather titillating. Cinematographer Yorick Le Saux bathes the film in hot, bright light that illuminates interiors with a slick, almost ghostly glow. And because the film operates in such a tentative mind-set with the characters making frantic decisions, there is a purposefully messy quality to the narrative that is both liberating and potentially frustrating to the viewer.

There were times when I wished I better understood what was going on during Boarding Gate, yet, I can’t honestly say I was ever truly confused or annoyed by Assayas’ deliberately opaque style. The film is more about what happens in between the big moments dictated by the necessity of plot, and less about the more obvious instances of action or spectacle. But the film’s final moments, which I totally loved, really sealed the deal for me. The ending of Boarding Gate might anger some viewers who are looking for a more overtly satisfying emotional conclusion to the story. It was here when I got the feeling that Assayas was attempting to channel the tone and mood of a Michael Mann film. This is a fun, dangerous, sexy thriller that’s well worth checking out. Available in America on DVD and streaming platforms; a Region B Blu ray is available from Amazon UK.

Buried is a nightmarish thriller.  I mean – what could be worse than being buried alive in a creaky coffin in the Iraqi desert with only a Zippo lighter and a cell phone at your disposal?  I know what could be worse – if you were put there by terrorists who are demanding $5 million for your safe return.  And nobody on the other line is taking you seriously.  And then — shit! — there’s a snake slithering down your leg!  That’s the gripping scenario posed by Buried, the fantastic and diabolical directing debut of Rodrigo Cortes; how hasn’t he become more prolific? Ryan Reynolds is in practically every single shot of the film, and I think it’s his best work as an actor; he’s never not fully committed to this one-man show and it’s something of a tour de force for him as a performer. Never once does the camera leave the inside of the coffin; no flashbacks, no hallucinations, no easy ways out for the filmmakers to cut themselves some slack.  Chris Sparling’s ingenious (and by the end totally insidious) screenplay is clever when it needs to be, tight and spare at all times, and never feels impossibly contrived given the schematics of the plot.  How will this guy ever be able to make it out of the coffin alive?  Will anyone he speaks with via his cell phone actually be able to help?  Buried is gripping from its very first frame, due largely in part to the phenomenal, award-worthy cinematography by Eduard Grau (A Single Man).  Shooting in full 2.35:1 widescreen with Reynolds dominating every frame and with what appeared to be only natural light sources, Buried is always visually interesting and frequently astonishing to look at, which is no small feat considering the solo location and cramped shooting space.  Cortes and Grau’s ability to keep their audience guessing through strategic uses of pitch blackness from inside of the coffin is one of the reasons that the film is as riveting as it is.  The dynamic use of sound also helps create a harrowing atmosphere.  This isn’t a film for the faint of heart and it’s not what I’d exactly call a happy-go-lucky picture.  But for people who liked to be scared just a bit and for those looking to be totally engrossed by a top-notch thriller, look no further than Buried.

I really enjoyed Map of the Sounds of Tokyo. It’s nothing brilliant but it’s very well done, extremely strong on atmospherics, textures, and surfaces, providing the viewer with a tremendous visual experience.  Lots of rain, lots of steam, lots of neon colors. Very dream-like.  Stony in many respects.  You never quite know how things will play out and while the film is way more interested in style than it is story, it’s always involving thanks to the two central performances by two very different actors (Rinko Kikuchi and Sergi Lopez). The stunning, Wong Kar Wai-esque cinematography by Jean-Claude Larrieu is easily the best aspect of the movie and the explicit sex scenes (writer/director Isabel Coixet clearly has a thing for oral gratification) always keeps the vibe hot and loose.  Like Enter the Void, there’s lots of cool-to-a-foreigner Tokyo-set imagery which always keeps things interesting. The tale that Coixet has cooked up, that of a hit-woman falling in love with her mark, is fairly predictable, but that didn’t bother me because I was always visually interested in what I was looking at.  It’s a mood piece, and as such, it’s a rich success.

Dogtooth is one of the strangest films I’ve seen over the last few years. I’m convinced that the Academy DIDN’T ACTUALLY WATCH this film before nominating it for Best Foreign Language Film of the year. Not that it’s terrible; far from it. It’s just ultra deranged, totally whacked-out, and playing by its own set of twisted rules. And it strikes me as wildly unfriendly to the mostly blue-hair members of the voting branches.  One thing is certain: this film is not for the easily offended. This is an uncompromising movie that feels completely like the product of a filmmaker who knows exactly what he wants, while also being a film that defies normal description.  Certainly living in the world of satire with detours into black comedy and mixing graphic violence with explicit (and in some cases illicit) sex, Dogtooth is a film of many tones and much ambition.  First time filmmaker Yorgos Lanthimos won lots of awards for this debut effort and it’s easy to see why; there’s nothing else quite like Dogtooth and the originality of its vision, is ever present throughout the entire run time.  When people, especially film critics, are presented with something like Dogtooth, something that is challenging and taboo-breaking and envelope pushing, there’s a tendency for extreme reactions — love it or hate it.  Dogtooth sort of plays out like an extreme version of The Village; a father raises his children (two girls and one boy who are well into their early 20’s), along with the help of his wife, to believe that they should never leave their house/yard/property because of killer cats that live outside the gates. They are self-taught and home-schooled, totally oblivious to the outside world, comepletely uneducated in areas of sex, drugs, and rock and roll.  Everything changes when the father starts bringing a woman home for his son to sexually experiment with and it’s then that all of the dynamics in the house change due to a series of unforseen circumstances.  Yes, the title of the movie is explained.  No, the film doesn’t end all tidy and wrapped up with a little bow on top.  Lanthimos is clearly interested in giving lots to his viewers to chew on and think about and discuss, and via the interview with him that was provided on the DVD, he stated that it was his intention to provoke debate with Dogtooth — it’s something that he feels should bother people and make them question what they’ve just witnessed.  Honestly — if you want a blow by blow of what happens in this film — then go to Wikipedia and type in Dogtooth.  It’s all right there.  What I will say is that this is a film that will appeal predominantly to movie buffs, fans of outlaw cinema, and people who are looking for something different and offbeat.  It’s a film that features pitch-perfect performances from an exceptional ensemble cast, it’s got terrific widescreen cinematography that subverts the very ideas that it is thematically posing, and the lack of a musical score in tandem with incredible Foley/sound work creates an unending sense of tension and unpredictability.

If you’re looking for an unpretentious, totally nasty horror thriller with just the right amount of sex and violence,  look no further than Rites of Passage, which was written and directed by W. Peter Iliff, the creator of Point Break. The film centers on a group of Anthropology students who decide to take the wrong field trip, to that of an ancient Indian burial ground, with their sleazy professor in tow, played by a game Stephen Dorff. One of the student’s parents happens to have a ranch which is sitting on the site of the burial ground, and it’s decided, in classic horror movie fashion, that it would be a good idea to hold a sweat-lodge-style ceremony in an effort to contact the spirits. Tea that’s been dosed with mind-expanding drugs doesn’t hurt, either! But all hell breaks loose once the drug addicted older brother of one of the students makes an appearance, here in the form of a severely whacked-out Wes Bentley. It seems that Bentley has a meth-cooking operation happening at the ranch, and he’s mixed up with a mental-case baddie with some intense personal demons played by Christian Slater, who isn’t too impressed to have all these new visitors. Before you know it, the innocent partying is cut short, while the body count mounts, with the attractive cast getting to do their best run-scream-and-fighting. Iliff wastes no time with the fast moving narrative, and takes the film into surreal, wildly tripped out places before its conclusion; the sight of Slater hallucinating a stuffed monkey, which tries to talk some sense into the increasingly unhinged killer, is just as lunatic and hysterical as it sounds. This is one of those low-budget items that loves to be playing in the milieu that it is, filled with some gory kills, some nasty black humor, and a tone that juggles thrills with stoner humor and all sorts of wild and crazy ideas. It’s never boring, it’s frequently ridiculous in an over-the-top-entertaining way, and if you need a down and dirty genre item to fill an evening, this one should do the trick.