Category: Favorite Films

Favorite Films: True Originality

We are due for a good review and recommendation of some great films. This time it’s films that I feel are genuinely original — movies that defy anything that has either come before it or even after. Genuinie creativity is so hard to find today. Bombarded by sequels, remakes and re-fabricated fusions of ideas stolen from other films disguised as originality, today’s movies feel both boring and chaotic, with many lacking either imagination and cohesive storytelling/direction. Here, we’ll look at films whose execution is as original as its ideas and, despite the passage of time, hold together and age better than so many films being made today.

Let The Right One In (Directed by Tomas Alfredson, 2008)

Swedish director Tomas Alfredson’s film is perhaps the most original take on the vampire genre I’ve ever seen. It’s both surprisingly touching yet starkly brutal. It carries none of the sensationist memes that typically accompany this genre. A film starring essentially two child actors, it’s easy to forget the complete submersion one feels when watching their performances. It’s a story of growing up, loneliness, friendship and young love set in a secluded little town in Sweden. It’s not the typical setting for any kind vampire or horror movie. Things look so normal yet there’s this eery quietness to the atmosphere. Shot during winter, where one feels both the isolation of its inhabitants and the coldness in the air, danger lurks unsuspectedly. The horror lies not in the shadows, as the murders happen in plain site, but rather out in the open, like how a child sees the world, almost innocently. While there is inevitable violence, it’s a story that’s built through careful character development rather than breathtaking action. I don’t want too give much away except to say that its ideas, characters and narrative are so original and interesting that I couldn’t help but marvel at the seemless clarity in the storytelling, most of it told visually. Here, you’re caught surprisingly empathetic to the protagonists while being glued to their journey, one that culminates into an ending that’s both brilliant yet inevitable.

A Clockwork Orange (Directed by Stanley Kubrick, 1971)

Stanley Kubrick’s controversial film debuted with incredible fanfare recieving both acclaim and criticism as well as intense public protest. Banned in a number cities during its release, the story portrays a young man, who along with his three companions, make up a group of repulsively cruel hooligans. This doesn’t make for a film you’d think you’d like to watch nor characters you’d like to follow. But follow them you will and into very uncomfortable settings. The film reveals what low street level evil looks like and where it lurks. It also reveals how society doesn’t know how to respond to the problems that come with this existent reality. Played by Malcom McDowell in an iconic role, Alex is into random violence, rape and Beethoven. (This juxtoposition of his interests is telling.) He ultimately gets arrested and subjected to social reform/rehab via technology. With beautiful and original costume and set designs, A Clockwork Orange creates conflict that challenges the mind of the viewer; it’s a film that you want to turn away from but can’t. Why did the director make a film about evil look so darn interesting, even visually appealing? The answer is simple: to shock us out of our naivete exposing our inclination to avoid truths, especially ugly ones that don’t align with our beliefs. Society and reality are complex. Here we witness how ideology — theories, judgements, labels and the associated automated responses — can lead to terrible outcomes and especially so when used for political advantage. Kubrick slaps this right in our face, all the way up to the ending of the movie and, in so doing, challenges our understanding of humanity.

Mulholland Drive (Directed by David Lynch, 2001)

Few films will frustrate you as much as Lynch’s Mulholland Drive (upon first viewing). I remember friends furiously debating the events, both real or imagined, and the meaning of the movie. Great films do this; they make us think and wonder about them long after they’re over. A story about a young Canadian girl (Naomi Watts) arriving in Hollywood to pursue a career in acting, the film grows into a mystery of sorts. Upon her arrival she finds a gorgeous brunette (Laura Harring) living in the home she’s set to stay in while in LA. This woman seems to have lost her memory via some kind of accident and Watts is determined to help her. The two embark on a journey to discover the truth of what happened. Beautifully acted, the apparent sweetness of Watt’s characters hides the reality of her nature while Harring plays the perfect yet twisted version of a neo-noir femme fatale. Slowly and surely we begin to see and feel that things aren’t right. We take turns questioning characters, events and the themes that lie deep in the narrative. I wish not to give anything away, for that would take away the fun, but there is so much rich symbology and visual luggage that we don’t know what’s actually important. This is both perplexing and intriguing at the same time. Truth be told, the film requires multiple viewings to understand and to catch all the intricacies in the underlying story structure. Wonderfully paced, Lynch makes you feel like you’re right there with its lead characters as you join in on her confusion. Can you handle such a mind warp?

Peppermind Candy (directed by Lee Chang Dong, 1999)

There are three great directors that have pushed Korea onto the forefront of modern filmmaking today: Park Chan Wook (Old Boy), Boon Jong Ho (Parasite) and Lee Chang Dong (Oasis). Of this trio, Lee’s films create a kind of nuanced atmosphere that’s easily overlooked compared to his contemporaries. His characters aren’t loud or charismatic nor are his environments elaborate or even playful. The world Lee creates feel shockingly and intensely real. The fantasy elements in his films lie sneakily beneath the exterior; hidden from plain site or dialogue, his themes creep subtly into your subconcious and, like in his latest masterpiece Burning, they are a slow yet inviting burn. In Peppermint Candy, the film is masterfully delivered to us in backwards order. Bit by bit, you witness more and more of the possible truths that might explain the events at the very beginning of the movie (which is actually the story’s chronological end). This is done to perfection. Each scene that arrives brings a deeper and deeper character reveal, playing out the history of one man’s complex and often painful condition. We witness hope, joy, suffering, betrayal and innocence all in one go around. It’s an amazing ride, a film that teaches us about the importance of one’s actions in the moment. Now, how many movies actually educate and entertain you at the same time?

Get Out (directed by Jordan Peele, 2017)

Finally I want to share a film that’s fairly recent, Jordan Peele’s Get Out. Peele’s writing and directing are starkly original while dealing with themes that have long haunted America’s unsettling issues of dealing with dark skin. Without preaching, he turns complexities of race into fun explorations of daily human interaction that reveals the aburdity and then flips and turns it into horror. Get Out starts out with a young man Chris (Daniel Kaluuya) and his girlfriend Rose (Allison Williams) setting out to meet her parents for the first time. During their drive out, they hit a deer. Immediately they are interogated by a white police officer, one who seems to meet the stereotype of redneck America. Rose is defensive of her boyfriend during the encounter, which carries some ominous tone thru the imagery of the dead ungulate. The scene establishes what seems to be a close bond between the two lovers, one that will protect him in the events to occur when he meets her all white family and their friends. But bit by bit things unravel and Chris begins to see and experience oddities that make him incredibly uncomfortable. As the viewer, you relate to Chris’ deeply felt fear; you know something horrible is brewing yet you don’t know what it is. Peele’s direction is both tight and metaphorical creating an atmosphere that is creepy yet funny at the same time. Get Out is a modern movie that gives today’s film lovers hope that it’s still possible to make fresh and engaging films.

Favorite Films: Movies That Time Forgot

“We live in an age where the artist is forgotten. He is a researcher. I see myself that way.” — David Hockney

There are so many films being made today one would think we’re entering a new Golden Age of filmmaking. Clearly, this couldn’t be further from the truth. The reality of mass corportate consumer culture and advertising dominating the entertainment scene has in fact brought movie making backwards. Way backwards. And despite the amazing technologies now available (and the multitude of talented people working in the industry), both the art and craft of films has gone significantly down in both depth and quality. The writing is either formulaic or pretentious, the direction noisy and disjointed, and the camera work is all over the place. Even some of the greatest actors of our generation seem to be mailing it in, passing through it purely for the money. The result is we’re dominated by categorical products tailored to specific viewer groups; teenager romantic comedies, holiday fare (the Halloween & Christmas usuals), big budget superhero blockbusters, and last but not least, 3D animated sequels and “classics” reboots. It gets tiring and nothing is more forgettable. (Can anyone even recount the musical scores from today’s movies?) Hence, I’ve been encouraged to discuss four truly great films to counter this regression or at least the feeling of it — gems that time forgot — films made with wit, creativity and power produced during a time when genuine creative writing and directorial courage was still encouraged.

Deliverance (directed by John Boorman)

Headed by the stellar cast of Burt Reynolds, Ned Beatty, Jon Voight, and Ronnie Cox, Deliverance is a film that grabs onto your senses and keeps its grip on you long after it’s over. Bound together by a tight script by James Dickey who adapted it from his own original novel, it’s a story about two things: the battle between man and nature and the (still) on-going battle between urban and rural America. The premise is simple: four city-dwelling friends get together for some oldschool male-bonding via an escapist adventure canoeing down the dangerous Chattooga River, deep in the wildlands of the Appalachian countryside in Georgia. Experienced canoeists and civilized men who lead happy if perhaps dull lives, they have no idea what they’re about to encounter. The exhilarating journey forces each of the men to question both themselves and the romantic vision of a “free and united” America. When the adventure ends, the lives of these men and their relationship with each other will never be the same. I dare not give away any of the details and spoil it for those who have yet to visit this film but under John Boorman’s taut direction and Vilmos Zsigmund’s uncanny cinematography, Deliverance not only delivers, it teases, bites, shocks and terrifies. In my opinion, it’s an underrated masterwork made by a masterful director.

One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest (directed by Milos Foreman)

There aren’t too many films that feature a delectable concoction of such wit, fun and tragedy as Milos Foreman’s One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest. A winner of six Academy Awards (Best Picture, Director, Writer, Actor, Actress, and Supporting Actor) The movie begins with convicted criminal Randal McMurphy (Jack Nicholson) being transfered to a psychiatric ward for evaluation. There, he meets a cast of rather unusual characters, all whom, surprisingly, have volunteerily checked themselves in for psychological treatment. At first, McMurphy is sly and clownish, like a man whose cunning plan to escape serving prison time has worked out perfectly, perhaps even better than he had hoped. He makes loads of friends, toys with the medical and nursing staff and, like a highschool clown both disrupting and controlling the classroom, he’s having a ball. That is, until the confrontations between McMurphy and the head nurse, the infamous Nurse Ratched (Louise Fletcher), get really dark and serious. The battle of wills and the psychological violence that ensues is both humorously exciting and terrifying. The film questions what is normal and what constitutes psychosis but it also brings to focus the validity of the methodologies used to treat patients in such institutions and the unchecked power of those responsible for them. In the end, the film is a treatise on individuality and freedom, the very things all of us are looking for but few of us truly find.

12 angry men (directed by Sidney Lumet)

I love this film and everytime I see it, I love it even more. Shot almost exclusively inside a small room, it’s not a film concerned with physical pyrotechnics, elaborate production design or eye-candy special effects. Instead it’s a film that shows us all how having only a solid script combined with tight direction and superb acting (led by Henry Fonda) can do to an audience. Made back in 1957, and shot in black in white, 12 Angry Men is a tale about 12 jurors who are to be strictly secluded in a room until they arrive at a final verdict for a young man charged with murder. What initially appears to be a slam dunk case for a conviction turns into a drama that seethes with tension as a battle between the jurors builds and builds as the night marches on. At first, the story seems simply to be about just another murder case but the real tale is one that cuts much deeper, like what happens to our humanity when man is faced with the uncomfortable truth; can man really know truth? Can he accept it? As we see how each man’s intentions are exposed during the deliberations, we as the audience, too, are forced to look at ourselves and realize how easy it is to be prejudiced, and often so without knowing that we are. In Lumet’s 12 Angry Men this important and profound message is not merely preached, it is experienced.

Midnight Cowboy (directed by John Schlesinger)

I recently saw Midnight Cowboy only for the first time (somehow, this film has eluded me all these years). I was totally bewitched by its power. Buoyed by touching, complex performances by acting stalwarts Dustin Hoffman and Jon Voight, the film sneaks up on you, brewing slowly yet richly, it forms a kind of spell rarely witnessed in movies today. A story about two strange and downtrodden castaways, we get an in-close exposé of the lives of men with so little that all they’ve got is each other. One man, Joe Buck (Voight), is a mere gigalo, one who hopes to parlay his cowboy charm on women in the big city (New York) to arrive at what he thinks is the American dream. The other, Ratso (Hoffman), is a disabled and homeless conman with naive dreams of his own but who barely scrapes by an existence. Neither have much direction in life, both are burdened with a painful and dark history. Controversial due to its’ daring themes and imagery at the time, this is a movie that shouldn’t really be explained and to do so would be to rob it of its immense power. There is so much sadness, innocence, sincerity, and beauty here. Add to it John Barry’s mesmerizing score, and we’re beholden to its magic. Midnight Cowboy can not be described as anything less than an absolute masterpiece of American cinema.

To see more great film recommendations go here.