Category: Favorite Films

“Art must take reality by surprise.” — Francoise Sagan, Playwright

It’s hard to find films that offer something new. Hollywood is big business, and like all corporate businesses, many decisions are based on risk. New things are risky and making movies is one of the riskiest. But as with everything driven mostly by the pursuit of profit and efficiency, there’s always a hefty price to pay. The sacrifices made usually reveal themselves in the quality of the end product but also in the process of making films (i.e. the work). The greatest worry, of course, is that the craft itself could be damaged, as viewers lose the ability to make the distinction between good and bad filmmaking.

But there’s always hope, for artists are forever finding new ways to work around obstacles. The following movies in this segment of my continuing series of Favorite Films give evidence of that. All of them are fairly new and offer surprises to the audience both in plot and visceral experience. They give us something to look forward to in a time when new movies feel more dated – more tired and worn out — than older ones. These are exceptions to the rule of stale formulas and mindless sequels so common in the movie industry today.

Chan Wook Park’s latest film The Handmaiden is a stunner. Astounding costumes, set designs and cinematography all enhance the atmosphere that delights the palette. The film is buoyed by two excellent performances from actresses Kim Tae-Ri and Cho Jin-Woong, who play mistress-servant roles that gets all tangled up in an elaborate and deceitful game of seduction. Based loosely on Sarah Water’s novel Fingersmith, the film is set in the 1930’s and captures the sumptuous Victorian designs and influence in Japanese-occupied Korea. In a world of secrecy and privilege, we witness a young girl’s nocturnal adventures — much of the film takes place in the dark — as she takes on the job as the handmaiden to a wealthy heir, the beautifully young yet lonely Lady Hideko. Since I wish not to give anything away, Park’s film sums up to a beautiful yet thrilling erotic experience — a deep character study thrusted into a period piece with stunning literary allusions. Already acclaimed for his magnificent and shocking thrillers such as Old Boy and Sympathy For Mr. Vengeance, The Handmaiden is by far his most deviously-intelligent and visually stunning film, one filled with surprises at every turn.

I love Wes Anderson’s “fantasy” films (such as The Grand Budapest Hotel and The Fantastic Mr. Fox). They manage to portray with more sincerity and freshness the truths of human (or in this case, canine) life than most “serious” dramas. Using simple caricatures and one-point perspective camera compositions, Anderson intrigues the audience constantly with his visual and narrative choices; you never quite know where he’s going but you can’t help but follow. In Isle of Dogs he takes it to another level. Set in Japan, it’s a story about a 12-year old boy named Atari who sets off alone in search of his bodyguard dog Spots whom he believes may have been sent to a garbage dump called Trash island. There, numerous canines have been exiled by government decree due to an outbreak blamed on the popular four-legged companions. Featuring voices by Anderson regulars like Bill Murray, Jeff Goldblum and Edward Norton, it also introduces new contributions by Bryan Cranston and Scarlet Johansson, who together play a bunch of misfit canines who help the young human protagonist navigate the land to find his dog. The film is, in many ways, mentally challenging to the audience. Anderson stays true to Japanese culture while also leaving much of the language expressed in its native tongue. This makes it difficult to follow at times. But it’s not only worth it, it’s part of the experience of venturing into the unknown, just like in real life. At its heart Isle of Dogs is a novel adventure that emphasizes without preaching the value of friendship, loyalty and is an ode to our love of dogs.

Director Damien Chazelle, who also wrote the screenplay, has made a small but electric gem with Whiplash. Featuring a magnificently intelligent and physical performance from J.K. Simmons who plays demanding music instructor Terence Fletcher, the film literally whips you back and forth just as he does to its main character Andrew Neiman played by Miles Teller. It’s a simple story of a young jazz musician whose ambitions to become one of the “greats” lead him to push all things in his life out of the way, including his sleep, his relationships, his mental-emotional health and, perhaps, even his own dignity. Neiman does all of this willingly. Seeing his potential, Fletcher invites the freshman drummer into his elite music conservatory, a group of artists who compete just as harshly against each other as with themselves just to be there. But Fletcher is a mean, ruthless and abusive mentor even if he’s one who’s self-aware; his hope is to force just one of these young musicians to reach their full potential and he makes no apologies for how he does it. True to his passions, Neiman delivers an intensity and drive that matches his teacher but things twist and turn as quickly as Fletcher’s temper. I loved every minute of this movie and it culminates into a final scene that’s emotionally breathtaking for every passionate artist who’s out there watching.

French writer/director Mattheiu Delaporte has created a surprisingly suspenseful film. It’s never easy making mysteries and this one is original and highly unpredictable. Starring Mathieu Kassovitz as the meticulous yet bored real-estate agent Sebastien Nicolas, the film leads off with a strange yet sombre opening — Sebastien makes a final phone call just before he commits suicide by blowing up his entire apartment. What follows is the mystery as to what makes a man do what he does, and it is in this journey that we learn about Sebastien Nicolas, a man who leads a double life by impersonating strangers whom he has just met. After following his insane adventures — which reveal the skill and meticulous preparations as well as the risks he takes — we find our protagonist at a crossroads. After nearly getting exposed for his latest shenanigans, Sebastien decides to call it quits. That is, until he meets a reclusive violin virtuoso, Henri de Montalte (also played by Kassovitz) who presents to him his most challenging role yet. But in impersonating the retired musician he gets sucked in deeper than ever in the double life as he engages de Montalte’s ex-lover and her child. What plays out is not what’s expected and both Delaporte’s direction and Kossovitz’s incredibly seamless and chameleon-like performance is perfect — we are so convinced by the character’s behaviour we forget who is being fooled here. This is a modern mystery that brilliantly makes us wonder about how we see the world as well as how we see ourselves including the various parts and identities we play in life.

Romance movies are some of the most predictable films made, not just in Hollywood, but everywhere on this planet. But here, in Ritesh Batra’s beautiful little film The Lunchbox, the tale is told in a fresh and often surprisingly whimsical manner. The premise is simple; lonely young housewife Ila (Nimrat Kuar) decides to re-ignite the romance in her marriage by making a special lunch for her husband but due to a rare mistake by the food delivery company — a very popular service in India — the lunchbox ends going to another man, Sajaan Fernandez (Irrfan Khan). The swapping of lunchboxes ends up creating the most unexpected of situations as her magnificent lunch delights the palette of the stranger while her neglectful husband gets even more turned off by the standard fare that was ordered by Fernandez. For some reason the lunchboxes continue to get mis-delivered but Ila doesn’t even bother to question it anymore as her marriage continues to fade just as she begins to develop this unusual relationship with Sajaan, a dutiful yet prickly accountant who’s about to retire. The chemistry between the two actors feels magical even though they never share a screen together. Irrfan Khan’s performance is as sublime as always, underplayed and lasting with depth and intelligence. Kuar’s Ila is beautiful and, in her confusion with both her newfound relationship with Sajaan and the overarching purpose of her life, she reveals a vulnerablity that invites empathy. Batra’s The Lunchbox is a film that reveals the beauty of strangeness — the kind of wondrous peculiarity that’s on the brink of extinction in a world dominated by modern living — and it’s beautifully expressed here by the metaphorical exchange of hand-written letters.

To see more Favorite Films go here.

As a continuation of our analysis of interesting movies, we’ll look at a selection of films about FAMILY. We’re not talking about “family films” (which commonly refer to the category of safe and saccharine films for small children) but movies that deal with the issues that arise within the family structure and ultimately its relationship to the society which it nests. This area of filmmaking is often ignored in Hollywood despite its obvious importance and day-to-day relatability. Sure, there’s the odd family theme or moment, but it’s more often than not an afterthought, or worse, a contrived element designed to make you “feel good” at the end.  The Godfather is actually a family film even if it’s not an obvious one. It might be set inside the world of organized crime but the story is about a family’s trials and tribulations. That’s what makes it convincing AND what makes it so good.

For artists, writers and filmmakers, I can’t think of a topic more rich and diverse than stories about the family unit. In fact, their significance plays a direct part to understanding humanity; we all have a mother and a father and we’re all born with no choice but to deal with both social union and conflict. From Homer to Shakespeare, all stories begin and end with family in mind. And thus, for the creative to visually express, write about or act out human behavior, he needs to acquire a deep understanding of not just human physiology but human psychology. Good films enable us to empathize with our fellow human beings.

The following films tackle directly both the common and  uniquely-specific issues people have to deal with, all within the structure of the home and family. Some of these will inspire, while others will challenge you. Viewer beware.

The Royal Tenenbaums (directed by Wes Anderson)

Perhaps my favorite Wes Anderson film, The Royal Tenenbaums is a delightfully strange story about a talented yet totally dysfunctional family. Starring the diverse and hugely engaging Gene Hackman as Royal Tennabaum, the father who’s almost entirely responsible for his family’s psychosis, we witness the unusual circumstances that plague his three children, each one a former child prodigy but all now living disconnected lives and are entirely miserable. The story begins when Royal has run out of funds to live on and becomes homeless. His further discovery that an accountant (Danny Glover) has formally asked for the hand of his former wife (the always magnificent Angela Houston) then triggers an outlandish plot (he pretends to have cancer) to sneak himself back into the family household — literally. Suddenly, all the children find themselves back under the same roof, but this time as adults, all with issues to deal with among themselves and the colorful characters that surround them, including an old neighbor Eli (Owen Wilson) who’s a Tenenbaum wannabe and Raleigh St. Clair (Bill Murray) the daughter’s husband.

Funny at every turn, the characters are rich, ridiculous and impossible not to empathize with. That’s the power of Anderson; his characters, despite their almost cartoon mannerisms, are always so marvelously honest — we could only wish that people in the real world would be this true to themselves as they are here. The Royal Tenenbaums boasts a fantastic cast including Ben Stiller (the business genius), Luke Wilson (the tennis star), and Gwyneth Paltrow (the playwright) who play the three adult children respectively while Alec Baldwin lends his fabulous voice in narration. It’s a gem of a film — visually beautiful, insanely funny and surprisingly profound.

Tokyo Sonata (directed by Kiyoshi Kurasawa)

In Tokyo Sonata, we follow a man whose fortunes change as Japan’s economy gets hit by the 2009 global financial crisis. A manager at his company, Ryuhei (Teruyuki Tegawa) is fired from his job and is too prideful (or too fearful) to tell anyone about it, including his wife and children. So each day he pretends to go to work, in the meanwhile  lining up at the employment office, both looking for jobs that’s he qualified for (not many) and making himself busy so that he doesn’t come home too early so as to avoid any uncomfortable questions and adding to his growing bucket of lies. His wife Megumi is a stay-at-home housewife and mother to their two children, the older Takashi (also unemployable) who’s frustrated with his lack of direction and hope for the future and the younger Kenji, who’s struggling at school and is also miserable. Appearances being big in Japanese culture, it’s funny how all the politeness and friendly gestures do such poor jobs of masking the character’s inner feelings.

As Ryuhei continues to bring home the monthly checks to his wife (drawing from his limited severance benefits and unemployment insurance) he discovers a fellow unemployed friend who shows him the tricks to covering his tracks, for he, too, is doing the same, hiding the horrible truth from his family. Of course, all this is for not, as both him and his friend have been failing all along in their deception because everyone knows, including the children — one who wants to join the US army reserves and the other who wants to play piano. The father’s deception and unreasonably harsh disapproval of their desires further estranges him from his children. Meanwhile his wife falls into despair, her life has been on autopilot but now aware of the truth, sees little point in going on. But just as the film’s tragedy and humor (yes, it’s strangely funny!) seem to foreshadow an obvious conclusion, the movie takes an usual turn. Kurasawa’s directing enables you to get inside the character’s plight but also engages your curiosity about your own. What would you do in the same situation? How do you find meaning when crisis hits and reveals that you’ve been lost all along? Here, in Tokyo Sonata, a family’s cultural structure gets broken down in order for it to be rebuilt. I loved this movie.

Yi Yi (directed by Edward Yang)

Whenever I watch Edward Yang’s films I’m always surprised; he has a way of bringing your attention to things you wouldn’t normally look at. His use of camera and visual narrative give the moments in his story weight and substance. In Yi Yi (translated “A One and A Two”) Yang’s magic is spun around the lives of a modern day Taiwanese family. Beginning with a marriage and ending with a funeral, the story follows the life of NJ and his family. A good and principled man of little words, he’s forced to deal with problems that beset him both at home and at work. To make things even more complicated he’s presented with the opportunity to relive the past with a former lover, as he ponders the game of “what if” — would his life be happier had he chosen a different path? The family members, too, have their own issues and are completely unaware of each other’s problems. The wife is suffering from a depression. Grandma’s in a coma. NJ’s lonely teenage daughter is caught up in a love triangle as she experiences her first romance. But perhaps the most interesting actions follow that of NJ’s quiet eight year-old boy Yang Yang who’s being bullied at school by a bunch of girls. The film makes you ponder all the joys and ambitions of life as well as its sufferings and regrets. It probes the life that’s so busy that we forget to live and forget also that other people are involved. Edward Yang is an auteur of meaningful cinema and this film might be his best. Brimming with sadness, humor and beauty, Yi Yi completes itself with an absolutely perfect ending.

Kramer vs Kramer (directed by Robert Benton)

Robert Benton’s 1979 film Kramer vs Kramer is a slick-moving yet deeply touching film. Set in New York City, we follow the sudden break up of a marriage. Caught in midst of a major proposal at work, Kramer (Dustin Hoffman) has been unaware of his wife’s misery and is caught completely flat-footed. Atypical of most divorces, we have the wife and mother leaving the child behind. Before he knows it, he’s stuck with what he feels is a shocking betrayal and has to both raise his boy and keep up with the demands of his already challenging job. Much difficulty arises for Kramer but he begins to make inroads on becoming a better father. But then comes the hard part; just as things begin to look good, his former wife (Meryl Streep) returns to demand custody of the child. Having sacrificed his good standing at work, he’s now forced into financial and emotional chaos as the case heads to court. Both Hoffman and Streep (who both captured Oscars here) are amazing as we witness two individuals who live, breathe, struggle and change. Director Robert Benton takes no sides in Kramer vs Kramer; we get no sense that either husband or wife is wrong here. This is just something that happens to families.

Harmonium (directed by Koji Fukada)

As a follow up to Hospitalité, his disturbing yet playful exploration into the family affair, Koji Fukada’s Harmonium is an imposing film that quietly grabs you by the neck and pulls you along with it. The story begins when a strange man (played by the ever-captivating Tadanobu Asano) comes by the family workshop of Toshio (played by Kanji Furutachi) a quite albeit devoted patriarch of a family of three which include his wife Akie (Mariko Sutsui) and his young daughter Hotaru. The home is both vocation and sanctuary; the father’s workshop occupies most of the bottom floor of their two-story flat. The peaceful set up is interrupted suddenly when Kanji not only invites the stranger to stay with them but also employs him at his workshop, all without consulting his wife. In Japan, the homes are small, so there’s little privacy and this new situation brings both suspicion and discomfort to Akie. As time passes, her attitude towards him changes; the visitor is quiet, polite and well-mannered and she’s moved by his gestures to help their daughter with the harmonium, an organ-like instrument which she’s been learning.

All this time, the father has been silent but knowingly uneasy. He doesn’t say anything at first, but soon, it’s clear this “old friend” is here for a reason. The mood slides from that of tranquility to foreboding as we’re compelled to follow the plot. In Harmonium, we’re challenged to ask how we look at families, for things are never what they seem. What’s really going on in the minds of people as they go about their daily business? Do we truly know the family members that make up most of our social interactions? What are the consequences of adding another member to the family structure? And does it take the arrival of an outsider or a crisis to force us to look at such truths, like those that dwell in the past but affect the present? Kurada’s film is not for the faint of heart, but if you let it, it will make you think about these things long after it’s over.

The Descendants (directed by Alexander Payne)

Besides Clint Eastwood, there are few directors that have probed as deeply into the fabric of American life as Alexander Payne. Whether it be a satirical take on high school politics (Election), an exploration into the emptiness of old age and retirement (About Schmidt), a magnification of the greyness of life in middle America (Nebraska) or a piercing tour of friendship as two buddies travel through wine country (Sideways), his films allow the characters to truly breathe and interact; they trip and fall clumsily uninhibited by casual scripting. The Descendants (2011) takes place in Hawaii, where “people are just as screwed up as anywhere else in America” according to our hero Matt King (George Clooney). Matt is a lawyer, and a busy one who, like many breadwinners of their families, is preoccupied with work. That is, until his wife Elizabeth (Patricia Hastie) ends up in a coma from a boating accident and the doctors will be pulling the plug and soon.

He’s now suddenly stuck with having to tell his children the bad news and becoming a single parent, a role he’s been almost completely absent. He doesn’t know his children. The older Alexandra (Shailene Woodley) is in college while the younger Scottie (Amara Miller) is still in Elementary School; both are potty-mouthed, snarky and have “no respect for authority.” To make matters worse, he’s also the steward of the family estate, a plot of land representing hundreds of acres of prime Hawaiian real estate worth hundreds of millions of dollars that now needs to be dispersed amongst the extended family of aunts, uncles and cousins — all whom want and need the money from the proceeds aside from a few noble, protect-the-land holdouts. Oh, on top of all that he discovers that Elizabeth has been unfaithful. Family crap doesn’t get more complex than this. Along the ride to discover the truth of the affair, we meet other characters — Elizabeth’s father (Robert Forster), his daughter’s best friend Sid (Nick Krause) and cousin Hugh (Beau Bridges) who together bring wonderful tension and humor to the plot and character interactions. The film is comedic, yet digs deep into moral concerns. Great directors can do this — play with paradoxes while getting you completely vested in the characters.

Tokyo Story (directed by Yasujiro Ozu)

I can hardly talk about family films without bringing up Ozu. Known internationally for making slow, yet deeply profound films about the Japanese household in industrialized, post-war Japan, Director Yasujiro Ozu has made what some might call one of the greatest films ever. Tokyo Story, like his other films, mostly take place within the home. Here, we arrive at the story of an old couple who find themselves dismayed by the reaction (or lack of reaction) of their children and grandchildren when they (the couple) come to visit. After they leave, the elderly couple find that the experience continues to circle their minds and weigh heavily in their hearts. Disappointment, lack of respect and unrequited love brew in the air as we watch the characters mostly sit, talk and go about their daily routines slowly. What’s revealed is deep feelings members of a household have while they struggle with bottling it up inside. Ozu rarely moves the camera, yet his films are beautiful and poignant. Each composition, focal point and action are carefully thought out. There are no gimmicks or contrivances here to trigger emotion. And the acting is subtle and nuanced. The result is a movie that’s direct and deeply heartfelt while being completely unsentimental. Ozu’s consistent themes about the destruction of the family unit due to modernization and the endless busyness of work couldn’t be more applicable to our situation here in the 21st century. This is must-see cinema that is relevant as long as humans are still around. Ozu is a great teacher of life.

To see more Favorite Films go here.