Reviews

Lost in Translation is an anomaly to cinema, at least the cinema that I know. So much can be said about it and yet so little needs to be. There is an allure within the world created by Sofia Coppola that is entirely unique. I can't say I remember very many specific 'parts' or particularly memorable pieces of dialogue, despite having seen it on a number of occasions. I am, however, almost endlessly drawn to the near-enigmatic nature of what does happen, perhaps because it is so easy to relate to. Of course I'm not implying that I empathize with Bob's actual character, but rather, I feel connected to his plight (or lack thereof).

If you've ever wandered your neighborhood alone in the early morning hours and felt somewhat indifferent to the world, there may be a small part of either of these characters locked inside of you somewhere, longing to find someone that shares your own troubling sense of apathy - someone that may also lend you a whisper, a bittersweet sense of hope, and a truly private moment that would have the potential to make everything a little more bearable.

Punch-Drunk Love | 10/10

After a few viewings over the course of five years, I've come to realize that this is one of the most unique films I've ever seen. Surely that alone does not make it a good film, but I think it's worth mentioning because of how well it works. The synopsis of the film is utterly ridiculous, Adam Sandler is the most incomprehensible choice for something with any artistic value whatsoever, and the overall look of most scenes could quite easily annoy a person to no end. Luckily for me, I see no problem with any of this. Within the realm of what actually happens in this picture, the plot is necessary, Sandler is perfect, and the cinematography is astonishing. These things alone only touch the surface of what's presented over the course of an hour and a half.

Director Paul Thomas Anderson already had a couple of great films behind him before he decided on this project. These films, however, were ensemble pieces and very much epic in scale. He proves here that he can be just as (if not more) effective with a few strong characters and a toned-down yet equally interesting vision. Sandler's Barry Egan is quiet, reserved, lonely, and clearly depressed with his seemingly empty life. He is a -real- character that some of us may have known at least once in our lives, and more importantly, one that even more of us can relate to whether we'd like to admit it or not. Anderson surrounds his character with various clues, both visual and spoken, that show us who he is, the person he would like to be, and what he may need in his life to achieve such things. Thus we're presented with one of the great actresses working today, Emily Watson. After an early morning car crash and an equally random (or not) appearance of a Harmonium, Watson's Lena walks into Barry's life. She, to a certain extent, is also reserved, and almost seems a bit too perfect to be real, or at least from around here ("People are just crazy in this world, I think."). That line, as dormant as it sounds, speaks a great deal to me about her character and the possibilities that exist within it. She says this after Barry is attacked by the brothers of Mattress Man, the bogus phone-sex company that Barry calls during a routine moment of lonely desperation.

As cliché as it may sound, I really do think that the basic motive for this film's existence is a desire to show the power of love and acceptance. Where it succeeds is it's flawless presentation. At the beginning of this film, Barry doesn't like the person that he is and really sees no reason for even trying to meet someone new. He is almost content with his small business and obsessive discovery of a marketing mistake that no normal person would even have the desire to uncover. As we see him playing his once silent and broken Harmonium, it's connection with his own heart and soul becomes clear.

Regardless of how much you like this film, or if you like it at all, it is not one that can be turned off and forgotten immediately. In fact for those that are willing, there are quite a few layers that become apparent only through multiple viewings. For instance, pay attention to the appearance of a lady in red during Barry's first trip to the supermarket, and how during many scenes we're given an otherworldly visual description of what would seem to be otherwise normal environments. If you're not interested in such things, then I'd still suggest watching this for entertainment purposes alone. As much as I find myself complaining about mainstream cinema, I almost take comfort in knowing that I'll eventually come across something this perfect in a sea of uninspired mediocrity.

Last Year at Marienbad | 9.5/10

A distant and dream-like work, Resnais makes equal use of characters, objects, time, and setting throughout the entirety of this film. Through this we are able to observe the unusual happenings in a luxurious hotel by a man, a woman, and what could or could not be her husband, all of which remain unnamed. The man is sure he had an affair with the woman last year at the very same hotel, and tries in vain to convince her (and often times, even himself) of this. These attempts quite literally represent nearly the entire running time of this picture, and yet I was never bored or put off by what I could see others finding incredibly pretentious and mundane.

The images and camera movement work as if we are being presented the most random and incoherent dream possible. We've all had them, and speaking for myself, enjoy them and the feeling we're left with upon waking. Through use of countless mirrors, endless hallways, and a vast, detailed garden, we are shown through perfectly choreographed scenes what the man describes in his ongoing attempts to persuade this woman into believing and actually leaving with him. Often times these shots occur out of sync, sometimes before or after what we're told. Unique editing plays an important role in a few scenes as well, most notably in an amazing collage of the woman between two different places. There is also a game of Nim repeated throughout, most significantly a few times between the man and the woman's husband in what could be speaking to the actual actions between these three people.

In any case, a real or coherent meaning to this film is not necessary, and probably doesn't exist to begin with. The images and endless monologues are used as a backdrop to present the much larger and infinitely more interesting mystery of memory and it's affect on the human psyche. Everyone in this film, including the other guests in the hotel, seem to be trapped in their own ways, often times confusing what year it is, or even what season. This is a thought provoking work with a nearly unmatched replay value for anyone with a taste for innovative film-making.

Inland Empire | 8.25/10

As expected, this is quite a good film, with a large number of scenes that are as effective as anything Lynch has come up with in the past. What I see the film as, upon first viewing, is a dark and disturbing meditation on the idea of self, identity, and conscious. The devices used to present this are quite abundant, but the main story seems to revolve around a Polish actress that ends up seeing her own actions and emotions presented to her through Dern's character in some parallel place and/or time. This is strongly highlighted through the repetition of an absolutely haunting song that evokes a mood and feeling similar to that of Club Silencio from Mulholland Drive.

That being said, I must admit I'm slightly disappointed not only in that this feels like there's been no progression from Mulholland Drive, but that much of the film greatly resembles Mulholland Drive to begin with. That's all good and well, as it's one of my favorite films, but I still think Lynch should have avoided such a regression and moved on to something different. Many of the typical Lynch themes are present, and as usual, it's basically incoherent on first viewing, at least narratively speaking.

Overall the film is obviously worth seeing at least twice; that is of course if you made it through the first viewing without wanting to give up on cinema altogether. I wish I could say that I was blown away by this film, considering Lynch's talent and the fact that he's been working on it for over 5 years. I suppose that I can settle for what's presented here, though, if only for the fact that it is still more innovative and interesting than 95% of what continues to come out these days. As true as that may be, I do hope that Lynch's next film is a vast departure from this in every imaginable aspect.

The Double Life of Veronique | 10/10

This is an incredibly haunting and poetic work that raises a plethora of questions regarding life, death, and the unexplainable connection that some people share. I was stuck in a sort of trance while watching this, as beautifully photographed scenes seemed to follow one after the other for the film's entirety.

There wasn't a moment that I had lost interest, and the questions posed throughout are some that I found myself thinking about on many different occasions as a child. Do we, perhaps even simultaneously, share the same thoughts, feel the same feelings, and take part in the same actions as another person we have never met? Is it more than instinctual for us to avoid certain things, or act in certain ways? This film spoke to these questions, but of course never answered them. It turns out, I believe, that there are no answers to begin with.

This is the fourth Kieslowski film I've seen, and most certainly the best. Visually, it shares a few things in common with the Colors Trilogy, and Irène Jacob (Veronique and Veronika) was actually the main character in Red. Her acting is extremely good in both films, and the mood she creates in this one is understated, but incredibly graceful. I should mention the music in the film as well, which in addition to being beautifully presented, plays an important role in the connection between the two women. This is one of the best films ever made, presented by a man of great vision who left us far too soon.