End Of The Week Shorts #85
I can't say that I ever liked Blade Runner. I always assumed that it was a good movie, but, despite seeing it once or twice, I really never felt I had properly seen the film. Today, I sat down and gave it its due. I still can't say that I like Blade Runner.
Beautifully shot and somewhat thought provoking, Blade Runner simply feels flat to me. Not only do the characters not reach out with humanity, but the themes fail in gripping the conscience. All that rings through this are the moments of absurd acting and silly writing. Clearly descendent of film noir - which I cannot say I have managed to cultivate any appreciation for - Blade Runner is too much plot and a selection of boring archetypes; no romance, no melodrama, worth caring about. Little substance, no flourishing of photogenie, certainly no lyrosophy. The close-ups of Rachael is where the film begins and ends. A failure to blossom.
As tense and gut-wrenching as this is, as much as I can pour my heart into this film, it feels too untruthful. Midnight Express calls out of you a fear of ones own naivety and stupidity of a magnitude so large it is almost incomprehensible. Subsumed by not injustice, but a surreal imbalance - a swipe from above far mightier than believable - Midnight Express takes you down through the depths of one man's tragedy and has you wallow in the thick liquids of the dark below. Far down enough we do not go if this is to stray from reality. We are contrived an underworld with stain glass windows; in streams far too much light. Construct hell if you can't find it, but get an architect with guts. Turn the world upside down, let us realise we tunnel upwards - don't open a side door. I thought this was going to be something special, but it's too perfect, too easy. A prison film done well, but one that falls short of the promises it makes with its near-masterful realist-impressionist opening.
Nauseating. These movies aren't for me - they give me anxiety. I should stop watching them.
Romance is found in chaos, in some blood curdling conception of marriage as a carnival for one's ego, in a relationship as a wallowing place for the personal unconscious. There's most definitely truth in these conceptions, but the void has stared back at me--and how I shudder. Narrative aside, this is competently shot, but unimaginatively written. The V.O needs to go. The music sucks. I don't know what the cinematographer is doing, but they manage to light faces in such a way that they glow with an invite... one that seems to read "punch me" - at times anyhow. Again: not for me.
As cringe-inducing as it is to watch men learn to dance with their own animus after their anima has pulled their pants down - unbeknownst to them - I can appreciate I Love You, Man. It's around about as trashy as its symbolically feminine equivalent - the bride film, e.g Bride Wars - but the masculine undertones are somewhat soothing. That is to say that this is less about romance as a state of chaos, time and space, bent into one another, disorderly, but unconsciously sensical. I Love You, Man strives towards the logos and its simple order - to see the feminine and masculine in one man reach a better balance (hence the dual marriage). Existentially conserved as I am, this resonates with me. So, whilst objectively not much better than the likes of Bride Wars, I Love You, Man is less anxiety inducing - maybe more truthful, too - and therefore a more pleasant watch.
Fascinatingly absurd, Mildred Pierce explores the degree to which a mother's love, her instinct to protect, can consume her. It then follows a housewife who becomes a slave to her beyond-bratty daughter who constantly demands money yet showcases unbelievable disrespect for hard work. What works about the film is its 'tuphlodrama', its uncanny drama. However, what doesn't work is the melodrama - which so often masks serious plot holes; for instance, Mildred somehow accruing enough money to buy and furnish a seaside restaurant after 6 months of being a waitress whilst supporting two children's extensive demands and paying for a multiple bedroom house. If being a good waiter could get you so far in so short a time, I'd have quite uni long ago. It is unfortunate that the melodrama gives this narrative a basis in the unreal as seeing through the absurd drama into a genuine thematic exploration of overwhelming mothering instincts could have been very rewarding. So, all in all, shaky.
Meet The Blacks caught me entirely off-guard. If I had ever heard anything about it, it must have been a moment or two before an episode of slight amnesia as I went into this entirely blind.
All the jokes are low shelf, the continuity is entirely chaotic, the performances are as far from subtle as possible and the narrative is brainless, but nonetheless, Meet The Blacks is funny enough; it is probably the funniest parody movie I've seen (though, I'm not much of a fan of the genre). In part, deeply predictable, in many ways, entirely baffling, this is pure ridiculousness. The sound-design in particular is unstoppably absurd. Only an inch away from exploitation cinema, this can't be taken seriously (apart from the CGI blood--disappointing). Best watched with an equally shocked friend, I may as well recommend Meet The Blacks.
What was one of my favourites is now only pretty good. I used to love watching comedy specials, but this last year has seen that part of me die quite a bit.
You can see hints of Kinisen in Rogan's timing, and this really helps in the latter segments. But, equally good is the opening and ramblings about dolphins - which is somewhat reminiscent of the earliest specials of Rogan's. But, all in all, one or two pretty good laughs, but they were few and far between.
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The Shop Around The Corner - Two (Faces) Into One
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WALL-E - Value In Responsibility (REWIND)
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