Synecdoche, New York

It's hard to comment on the narrative of Synecdoche, New York because it is as chaotic and dense as Charlie Kaufman would have you believe he intended all along. The truth is, that while Kaufman again offers insights in ways few other screenwriters or artists can, his story collapses into itself as it waltzes to its final fade out. That isn't to say there isn't merit to the chaos. S,NY is rife with themes that will plague your thoughts all the way home from the theater and into the next morning after you decided to try to sleep it off.

It's hard to give anyone a concrete synopsis. Yahoo Movies, Rottentomatoes, IMDB, and so forth all tried, but only managed to scratch the surface. What we watch, in a nutshell, is an artist waiting on a slowly but surely approaching death with the single intense desire to figure out the truth of his life through the fabrication of his life story as it happens past and present in a massive theater piece of which the scope is unfathomable as it increases in size until only the characters are still keeping track of who is who and why. Doesn't sound like a nutshell, huh?

I can talk about it all day and not really give anything away, because one watch isn't enough. It's a rough watch. I was uneasy and/or uncomfortable watching the film. There's plenty of Water The Fish(?) to go for miles. It seems impenetrable and so difficult to empathize or even sympathize with the characters on screen. It seems to go at least a half hour or so past its reported 2 hour and 4 minute runtime. I won't hurry back into the theater anytime soon to revisit the challenge, but somehow the anticipation of facing the challenge of watching Synecdoche, New York is exciting.

I can't really blame anyone for disliking this movie or even hating it. Everything negative you say is probably true, but there is a wealth of meaning and provocation under the dense and enigmatic surface.

On top of that and in spite of all claims otherwise, there are some amazing performances in this film. Phillip Seymour Hoffman carries this film on his weary and wounded shoulders, and conveys the essence of confusion, regret, loss, frustration, and fear that comes with living (though it is heightened dramatically). The best moments in this film are when he is quietly discovering something he had missed so easily while looking for it so very hard. And the truth is that S, NY is a cynical film, but above all a character piece about a man never able to see past himself. Kudos also to the supporting cast including a wonderfully alive and buoyant performance from Samantha Morton amongst the cold and uninviting atmosphere. The always enjoyable Diane Wiest, Tom Noonan, Michelle Williams and Emily Watson also contribute a light in the awkward chaos. And I find it both comforting and frustrating that the entire cast and Kaufman himself seem so sure of their message and film. But it's not altogether serious either. There is an absurdity to the whole thing that never quite allows the audience to fully engage the story. But that story does not exist without that absurdity.

I'll finish this review with a quote from Owen Gleiberman of Entertainment Weekly: "The compulsion to stand outside of one's life and observe it to this degree isn't the mechanism of art -- it's the structure of psychosis." Hoffman's character turns inward into himself a seemingly infinite amount of times for the insight to his shortcomings both in health and relationships, but ultimately learns nothing that can satisfy his need to search.

***1/2

Dark City

This film is very successful at being very disorienting. I was lost in the excitement of the film. It starts out like a shot out of a gun after a brief narration explaining the current situation. Then it jumps to a sleepin city, save for one man who abruptly wakes in a tub without any clue how he got there and who he is. It seems the more he tried to find out, the more I questioned what in the world was happening. To paraphrase Morpheus, I felt very much like Alice tumbling down the rabbit's hole. It was only after I was able to catch up with the plot just as the amnesiac does that I was able to see how carefully and expertly the filmmakers had constructed the feel of the film. It was otherworldy to be sure, but there was vague familiarity in the dress and locations that resembled that of 40's noir films I had seen. To be so overwhelmed by the speed and oddities of the film is easy. Starting with that first montage of the city at a sleeping standstill, the film sets up the viewer to constantly be attempting to grasp at straws - at things that make sense - but to always feel out of your element as a viewer. The film is crazy. The images I saw were frightening, beautiful and awe-inspiring. The world is bleak, and the future seems even bleaker. The city is covered in shadows and men with dark, brimmed hats, and is lit to accentuate the shady characters and the dark night. Some of the shots of the film are framed so well that I stopped in the midst of my getting lost in those early moments of the film to marvel at the skill that went into putting them together.

And then there are the "Strangers." I'll admit to be frightened by the albino, sharp-toothed, lanky freaks. Especially that little kid one. Scary movies often deem it necessary to have a creepy kid running around, but none have managed to unnerve as much as the tiny, menancing stranger quietly promising violence. The Strangers could make my hair stand up by just standing still or slowly floating about their environment. Their stark white skin against the darkness around them made for memorable images throughout the film.

SPOILERS SPOILERS

The intentions of these beings doesn't seem all that bad - to find out what makes humans unique. But that doesn't stop them from being intimidating. It helps that their horribly ugly creatures who carry big knives and speak in either booming bass tones or weasly noises under their breaths.

It is not difficult to compare this film to The Matrix series. Both deal with the Messiah Myth. One man who has special abilities is called upon to free the world as they know it from their opposers. In each film, these oppressors have created a false world in which they control their subjects. Cut the kung fu, gunplay, and black leather out of The Matrix and they'd be even more noticeably similar. When I was watching the final fight between Murdoch and the chief Stranger, each floating in the air high above the city and trying to hit the other with all they had, I was reminded of Neo's final battle with Mr. Smith. It is notable that Dark City was released before The Matrix.

Only a few minor things bothered me. The only one worth mentioning was when Murdoch uses his tuning ability, a weird power signature (I am such a comic book nerd) is shown eminating from his head. It looks cheesy. As a visual effect, I found it to be noticeably inferior to the otherwise unique and excellent special effects throughout the rest of the film. I understand the purpose of the effect: it shows the tuning, or alternating of reality, was performed by Murdoch and not some unseen force or person or creature. But this was noticeably a different visual approach to tuning because the strangers did not show this kind of power signature until the chief guy broke some out in the end.

END SPOILERS END SPOILERS

Anyone who says this film is all style without substance must have failed to work through the complexities of the plot.

I also liked the love story, however minor and unnecessary, because I liked the characters involved and was invested in the outcome of their subplot. Because I cared about their subplot, I was more invested in Murdoch's character, whose eyes are the ones we discover the truth behind all the crazy madness.

I'd definitely recommend this to any viewer, though I imagine my opinion of the film may greatly change after a second viewing now that I am aware of the full story.

****

Chad Betz Review of Paprika

SPOILERS

As an explosion of dream imagery, Paprika wows. As a cogent narrative, it amounts to about as much as most other "important" Japanese animated films -- inscrutable plot machinations developing towards a cosmic battle between absolute good and absolute evil. Expect a lot of talk about existence in the positive and the negatory, and frogs banging on drums.

Paprika is one of a long line of modern Japanese films that overcompensate for their society's past repression of women by imbuing the heroine with god-like power and ultimate purity. The titular character is half-Kiki, half-Virgin Mary; she is cutesy and mythically well-endowed, pseudo-climactically canceling out the film's pitch-black antagonist through a metaphysical sort of confrontation that's beyond absurd, a Godzilla vs. Mothra staging that's basically a blow-up of what happens when particles of matter and anti-matter make contact. The film, however, also couches this confrontation in terms of woman being the answer to man. And, as a man, I have to ask: are we really that bad? I admire Paprika's attempts to deepen its text with psychology, but psychology is a complex tangle of gray areas, and when most of the film's primary characters end up reductively yin and yang, inner drama is lost to showy theatrics. And a big naked girl swallowing a big naked man-shadow.

Make no mistake, though, this is some of the most captivating animated imagery this side of Miyazaki. Even rivals Miyazaki, and with its adult rating and more oblique ambitions, occasionally marries Miyazaki with Murakami. It's unfortunate that the whole's not more nuanced, that the characters are too conceptual, and that half the time you're wondering what the four-letter-word is going on.

-Chad Betz
Guest Reviewer

Eyes Wide Shut

I had seen this movie years ago as a teenager for all the wrong reasons. But I remember it haunting me a little. I couldn't really remember why. About a year ago, I stumbled upon Jeffrey Overstreet's very positive review of the movie and it clicked. I rewatched the film this weekend and am again haunted. It's scary. I felt uneasy the whole time. It's chills are earned with constant raising of the stakes. Precarious situations only escalate further from the smallest slip of the tongue to the death of a hooker from a orgy ball with masks and cloaks and the creepy "plink (pause) plink (pause) plink" piano of the score. Alice (Kidman) tries to hurt her husband, Bill (Cruise), with a harsh story of missed passion. Jealousy ensues and drives Bill toward...what? Anger, infidelity, lies, hurt? Yes, yes, yes, and yes. The impact of a mean word shared between stoned spouses erupts into something awful. Even when Bill fears for his safety after the ball, he keeps moving toward destruction.

And I could see it. Stanley Kubrick incorporates a walking motif. His main characters, primarily Bill, move towards the camera, or away, but always moving. Moving towards nowhere. Bill thinks he's going to hurt Alice the way her story devastated him, but he can't satisfy that hurt. When he stops, when he finds the mask next to her sleeping body, then he can deal with what he had been spending the whole movie moving away from - his wife.

This role is easily Cruise's most restrained performance. Instead of his usual intensity, he favors quiet looks of regret, fear, and devastation. Kidman gets some great chunks of dialogue that seem to say more about the movie's intentions than a viewer could surmise on their own. The title's meaning becomes clear in her final piece of dialogue. Wake up.

There is that crazy orgy ball scene. Try as he might, Kubrick can't make it seem believable. Although, the chief fault with the scene is not his, but of the necessity of the costumes. It proves difficult to pull emotions from a face behind a mask. Still, I can clearly see that the scene stands out not for its believability but for the surreality it creates. It's weird, scary, creepy, and dare I say sensual (arc of eyebrow)? And this crazy combination of feelings and visuals create one surreal, frightening, and memorable cinematic moment.

Side note: Apparently, the answer to marriage difficulties is sex.

***1/2

The Game

SPOILERS

I've watched a couple of movies in the last week with a Wizard of Oz Syndrome. Heck, in The Game Michael Douglas even said he's pulling back the curtain because he wants to "meet the Wizard."

"And what is the Wizard of Oz Syndrome?" you may ask. Well, it's when you flip around the majority of the reality of everything preceeding the big reveal, the moment our hero or heroine wakes up and says, "I've had the oddest dream. And you were there. And you were there. And..." That is the case with The Game, albeit with a thriller twist. And like most WoOS movies, the satisfaction is in the ending. If it doesn't work, the film doesn't work.

The ending in the Game works for me. It rendered everything before it implausible, but I gladly hand over my disbelief in return for a mind-bending thrill ride with one of my favorite actors, Michael Douglas, and the handiwork of director David Fincher.

I must admit, the film loses some quality of experience on repeated viewings, but very few movies can rival the excitement I felt when I first watched it. First, problems. I found some of the hijinks to fall a little flat this time through. "Hijinks in a thriller?" you might say. Consider them "thriller hijinks." Michael Douglas gets tossed into this game that really kicks off with might be considered an unorthodox "meet-cute" scene not that much different from your average, run-of-the-mill romantic comedy. Only, in the Game, the guy and gal are being chased by police and angry dogs. The snappy dialogue between Douglas and the woman in the scene, played by Deborah Kara Unger, is a real bump out of the film. First, it's not realistic. Second, it's too cute. This movie is actually really dark and that scene really sticks out as one of those "Sesame Street - one of these things is not like the others" moments. Another one of those moments occurs when Douglas interacts with his televison's personality.

The implausibility of the plot does not keep me from loving this film, but it can prove bothersome when the big reveal happens. Even though I labeled this post with a "SPOILER" warning, I'm not going to ruin the twists and turns of the story. Just know that you do have to lay down your better judgment for a moment. It's not difficult to do, I swear.

The film really hits its stride after Douglas starts to unravel the mystery in Christine's apartment. The action picks up, the stakes rise, and all is right in the world of entertainment.

Pluses are many. Michael Douglas gets to do some of his familiar but amazing acting tricks. He plays the rich sour puss. He plays the man at the end of his desperation rope. He plays the vengeful spirit for all its worth. He does all this with considerable skill, which makes the "thriller hijinks" stand out all the more. But he is the audience's eyes and ears into this labyrinth of a mystery. And he portrays all the desperation, frustration, and confusion I felt as I watched The Game for the first time. Because I felt so connected to his character throughout the film, I felt the ending was justified and earned. So, the success of the film should be placed on Douglas' shoulders.

Sean Penn gets to do his familiar acting tricks. He plays it smooth, then lets out his whining shouts in that warbling foul-mouthed child's voice of his. But I like the guy and his talent. His role is small, but Penn knows how to support the lead. Sure, he chews some scenery, but there are few who I would rather watch chow down.

Fincher is the other driving force in the film. He doesn't appear for one second in the film, but his eye for staging a scene is always there. He uses a lot of low angles, hard lighting, and adds a gray tint to the movie. It adds to the already dark tone of the film. The low angles, coupled with various skewed angles portray the confusion of the film. The lighting and camera work during the scenes that take place at night are really remarkable considering many of the key scenes occur outside after dark. Fincher knows how to get the most out of his actors. Much has been written about his obsessive nature as a filmmaker, but I think the results are enough to excuse any hard headedness the guy throws around. He makes good movies. Even when they're so-so (Panic Room), they're made better than most of the movies out there. I say this because he knows how to construct a film. The credits show puzzle pieces splitting apart, and that is essentially what his films are - carefully designed puzzles that he can seperate and put back together at his choosing. The guy really knows how to build suspense and capitalize on the emotions of his audience.

Another big plus is the score. It contains one main theme, but that little piece of music accentuates the chills and thrills that are peppered throughout the film. Timed perfectly with the action on screen, the score often much scarier than what a piece of music has any right to be.

Themes...Well, the movie centers around a "remember what's really important in life" theme. Added to that is the idea that your life is your own; and death doesn't have to be a monkey on your back. While these themes are not exactly subtle, they are nowhere near a hinderance to the enjoyment of the film. And I can't really argue with them. But the real reward for living is the embrace of the good you have and could have if only you would let yourself have it. And it needs to be said even if it's shoved in your face a bit.

***1/2

Water The Fish, Andrew?

Why have I become so long-winded? Why does it take me so much space and time to say what others can say so well in so little of each? This blog started after the coherent and concise reviews of a Mr. Andrew Rudd caught my eye. He touched on themes, direction, performance, personal reaction and so much more in one paragraph. "That's the goal," I said to myself. "Don't bore them, kid," I heard me say. I have found I've got a lot to say, but it becomes a rambling, misguided mess by the time it hits the web. I used to fill pages with my old reviews because they included all the ramblings currently found on this page and plot synapses. Now, the synapses are gone, but the rambling, misguided mess is still falling like rain from an obese cloud. And yet...I write. I write to no one in particular because I have something to say. Onward, moviegoer. To the fray I march with humble hopes of sharing meaning and insight with the brave few who stumble upon this page.

Stay

Stay is not a great movie. It's tries too hard to be a great movie to actually accomplish its goal. It is, however, a very good film deserving of some love from viewers. I have a hard time getting people to appreciate this movie. It's "too confusing," "the ending was bad," or as my friend said tonight, "It sucked." Well, to that friend (as I tried to explain to them) and to you, dear reader, it certainly does not suck. I can understand why some find it hard to get on board with this movie after all is revealed.

It is confusing. It reaches sometimes for complexity that isn't there or is fleeting once found. But there is so much complexity that is there. There is so much ambition in the script. There is so much I need to ask the director and screenwriter.

The film certainly is disorienting. And in the case of Stay, I really liked that. The plot and the unique and always changing visuals kept me guessing. I kept asking not only questions about what I was literally seeing (i.e. - how'd they do all those transitions? How come I keep seeing double?) but bigger questions about themes and the reality of the film. It's a very well plotted film whose complexities really only come to further light upon repeated viewings. I gain more understanding each time I watch it. There are many new "a-ha!" moments when you get to process the plot and visuals after what is almost certain to be a frustrating first viewing.

But the frustration is good because I felt so rewarded at the end. It works. If it worked for everyone, I'd be a happy man. But like so many endings that change how we view all the story before it, it can leave viewers feeling cheated. I know there are not a lot of current M. Night fans amongst the few who might read this, but the guy used to do endings really well. I remember reading once that his endings (known for their twists) should seem inevitable upon subsequent viewings. That's one of the things I find I like in endings that can be categorized as twists: there're clues left along the way that you miss, but are right there waiting for you if you look for them. And, like Memento, Stay has one of those endings people will interpret different ways. Some won't be interested enough when the credits roll to bother to try their hand at figuring anything out. After all, many twists lay it all out for you with flashbacks and voice overs. Indeed, Stay lays out most of the revelations for you; but there are colors, movements, words, and meanings hidden within the film that never really get explained. Talking about them after the movie is done is both maddening and deeply satisfying. I got to think. I had to engage myself with the movie to like it. And that's okay. We shouldn't shy away from that kind of effort.

Then again, there were problems. David Benioff is one of my favorite writers. His two literary works of fiction are dear to me. I enjoyed his script for 25th Hour, which was based on his own novel. But some of the tremendous effort this guy must have had to exert to keep this labyrinth together shows. And not in a good way. The plotting is wonderful. The ability to see forward, backward, and around corners is evident in his script, but his ability to create cohesive dialogue is sometimes lacking.

I say sometimes because he handles the character of Henry Letham (played by the excellent Ryan Gosling) very well, others not as well. It seems to me that when Benioff formed the idea for this script in his head, it started with Henry and everything else was built up around him. So, Henry gets all the really good lines and complete thoughts.

The lead character is played by Ewan McGregor, but, again, I think he's secondary in thought and execution to Henry. He carries much of the point of view of the audience, growing more and more confused as the film progresses, and his descent into that state of disorientation and confusion is written and captured well. My real beef with Benioff is the scenes when McGregor's Sam Foster is having a quiet conversation with basically anyone other than Henry. There's a lack of reality in his lines, which may be excusable given the direction of the script, but it made it difficult to invest myself in the reality of the character. He never seemed as real as Henry or the world around them (if that's possible given the direction of the script). And I tip my hat off to Benioff that he was able to lack in this area and still keep me fully invested in the movie and its intricate storyline.

Like many of the films I have been watching lately, I have come to new realizations about actors I once held in high regards. There were Winona Ryder in Alien Resurrection and Ryan Phillippe in Way of the Gun. Now there's Ewan McGregor. I've always liked the guy. He has charisma to burn. I won't argue there. He's a very likable peformer, with lots of performances in solid movies. But he's not that good of an actor. Put your hate letters away. Just think with me about this one. Has he ever given a truly great performance before? Has he ever felt "real" to you? I'm not just saying real within the reality of a movie, because I realize he works great in fantasy films (Moulin Rouge, Big Fish, etc.). I mean real as a real human being. Does he behave in a manner where you could believe someone could be that way in real life? Because I think he really struggles in that way. He is almost always incredibly earnest when speaking, that idea never really being more clear than in Stay. One could argue that he never really has needed to act any different because his roles are usually in hyper real films (Trainspotting comes to mind) that eschew a traditional sense of reality. Perhaps. Good point. But I ask you if that is perhaps the mark of an actor of limited range. I think it is. He really bugged me in this movie. I needed to stay on board with his character because he was essentially my eyes and ears throughout the film, but he made it much more difficult than he needed to. Again, I like the guy. He does what he can do exceptionally well. But I expect more from an actor with this type of role, one with such importance.

Then there's Gosling, who is excellent and believable even when reality is confusing and questionable. His strength is all the more perceivable when he's on screen with McGregor's weaknesses. This isn't a great performance by any means. The film doesn't really allow for greatness, but it is pretty damn good. Gosling is quickly becoming one of my favorite actors. While his performance as the troubled young Henry is nowhere near the same league as his breakout in Half Nelson, there is much to be applauded in his work here. He's believable in a film that sometimes (purposefully) is not. He can be devastating in one look, a skill he has shown in other work. He has lots of devastating looks to give in Stay because the poor guy's depressed as hell thinking he's going to hell for something he did or will do. Henry is also always able to draw you in even when he's being cryptic, as he often is. And Befuddlement is present here as well. He's kind of a cool looking outsider here in more ways than one. And Gosling makes all these things ring true. He may scream, "CONFLICTED YOUTH!", but it's such a equisite howling that I won't fault the guy.

The only other thing that really needs rambling about is the direction. This is going to be a love it or hate it part of the equation for many viewers, but I really loved what Marc Forster does with his material here. While his visual style and direction might seem overly indulgent to some, I saw it as very fitting and telling of the reality of the film. It fits like the ending fits - better for some than for others. But when the ending clicks, I think the other is almost certain to as well. Transitions are creative here, but may get a bit repetitive. They can be maddening when watching the film for the first time. However, they help create a cohesiveness for the film as a whole rather than just a sum of its very strange parts.

P.S. - If you can figure out what the color yellow signifies, let me know.

***1/2