Cinemism

Margin Call Brings Me Out of Writing Coma

Wayne Lorenzo Titus — Sat, 10 Dec 2011 03:35:01 +0000

J.C. Chandor’s feature debut is a confident and unexplored look at one of humanity’s darkest hours. It posits that the financial meltdown we remain mired in was less the result of evil machinations, though there is a smattering of that, but more human frailties like hubris, naivete, and poor management.

I’m not sure whether this is plausible, but it makes for very good watching. Chandor manages to imbue a typical three act drama with strange horror and thriller notes that blend naturally. I left the theater shaken by the depth of duplicity we live with on a daily basis. In many ways it is “normal people” who create the monsters we so abhor, grand excuses for our own failings.

The King’s Speech: Friendship in Wartime

Wayne Lorenzo Titus — Thu, 03 Feb 2011 17:54:27 +0000

Tom Hooper’s well-mannered period piece (minus some staccato naughty words) is a welcome affront to the 3-D glut spilling out of theaters these days. Also I must emphatically state that I’m not using “well-mannered” as some code for “utterly boring.” This film has brought me more entertainment than anything I’ve seen in the past three months hands down. This liveliness is not accomplished through special effects or fancy editing but rather simple and coherent storytelling thrust on the backs of superbly talented actors.

The King’s Speech opens with the grandeur of Wembley Stadium as it slams into the paralyzing fear of the Duke of York, as played by a subdued Colin Firth. The prince and king-to-be is the official mouthpiece of the royal family on this momentous occasion. The British Empire exhibition at Wembley was one of the largest international events up until that time so there were most likely millions of ears and eyes on the prince. However, the trepidation of his wife and other dignitaries surrounding him, and his almost pantomime movements through the upper decks speak louder than he will. Immediately we know a man controlled by his phobias. Firth manages to convey the world of the prince’s emotions through the twitch of a lip, the darting of eyes, and a hunched demeanor.

Hooper uses tight framing, close-ups, and sound distortion to heighten the claustrophobia and mounting pressure of the prince’s moment in front of the mic. The words are throttled in his throat battling to get out with no chance of easy egress. The disappointment in the crowd grows toxic as silence builds to a merciful cut away. This will become a common theme as Hooper consistently brings us to the brink of words, but pulls the camera away from unnecessary gawking at the prince’s embarrassment. He shows great deference to his struggles and those of many out there who share his condition. In fact the only time we are allowed to languish over language is when there are hard won breakthroughs.

Slowly we discover that the prince’s belayed words are the remnants of unfulfilled promise, blunted pride, and a piercing anger. The prince has gone through an interminable succession of speech therapists to address his “deficiency.” After having given up for the most recent time, his wife, played by Helena Bonham Carter, covertly attempts to procure a practitioner with novel techniques to assuage the easily frustrated prince. She finds a peculiar man in the guise of Lionel Logue, an upwardly mobile striver and a failed actor with a unique approach to word reclamation. Geoffrey Rush balances a wry impishness with a deep empathy for his clients — a far bridge from the expected detachment. It is a bridge of suffering he seems to have crossed himself at one time finding some measure of peace on the other side, mostly due to the love and support of his wife and three children.

This is not a seamless meeting of the minds and Logue has to step over royal custom repeatedly to get through the Duke’s ingrained defenses. The most humorous of these digressions is his insistence on calling the prince “Bertie,” a private family nickname. Nonetheless through repeated conflict these two men born of hurt pride forge a real deep and abiding friendship that crosses their stark class differences. Hooper manages to infuse the film with subtle characterizations that organically flower into intimate realizations about the true motivations of these historical figures. Firth masterfully plays the prince as a braggart child of royalty, certainly scarred and afflicted, but also entitled and dismissive. However at his core he is extremely needy of approval through friendship, leadership, and from his wife and children. In this way both men are connected through their deep, abiding love of family.

The King’s Speech is not only the requisite Oscar front-runner but a deeply respectful film that uses one royal problem to address the multitude of nameless stutterers in the world. I’ve never seen a film handle a condition which precludes smooth dialogue with such sophisticated use of language to inspire, make us laugh, and impart the gravity of war. Hopefully appropriate praise is given to Hooper and screenwriter David Seidler over the next few months for the incredible research and commitment to bringing this story to the masses.

Top 10 of 2010

Wayne Lorenzo Titus — Fri, 14 Jan 2011 21:29:57 +0000

I’m woefully late on this list, and I still have yet to see The King’s Speech, Another Year, Winter’s Bone, Never Let Me Go, Blue Valentine, and the Fighter but this end of the year corral is more for my mental closure than any fastidious bean counting. My top three this year fall into the category of gruesome formalism–beautifully composed works about unpleasant subjects. You won’t soon forget them, and I haven’t all year long…

10. Catfish
Perhaps the truer “facebook movie” this year, what happens when you fall in love with a digital copy? Joost and Shulman insert themselves into this funny, heartbreaking, and slight examination of what lengths people go to find themselves in others.

9. 127 Hours
How many times can one use visceral in a sentence. I couldn’t breath from about minute ten until the end of this gnawing, slot-canyon drama. Knowing the ending can’t prepare one for the exhilaration, claustrophobia, and ultimate release. It’s never felt so good to leave a theater before.

8. Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work
15 minutes of fame ruthlessly, strategically, and lovingly held on to for 50 plus years is a pretty amazing feat. If this serpentine career is the consolation prize, then I consider us all pretty damn lucky!

7. Waiting for Superman
As my movie partner can attest to I had a hard time not succumbing to Guggenheim’s blatant manipulation. I’m man enough to accept my tears, but is this country good enough to look after it’s most valuable resource? Definitely not if status quo keeps the wealthy at the top of the class…

6. The Other Guys
A comedy about the financial collapse on Wall Street is definitely not what I signed up for, but I left appreciative of the lesson in the laughter. McKay is one of few who understands that the path to enlightenment goes through Eva Mendes’ ugly ugly face.

5. The Kids Are All Right
And the adults have a lot to learn. I think the sole reason this film settled onto my list is Annette Bening. I am still flummoxed over her transcendent performance in Being Julia. I have no clue how her shrill, stressed out, and judgmental doctor actually warmed my heart. Now that I think of it she may be the only true adult in the film.

4. The Social Network
Why are we all on facebook? Is it truly about connecting or is it more about fashioning the perfect self that eluded one in college and life afterwards? Fincher approaches these questions through the lens of a bleak dystopia ruled by an embittered child-king. We are all the sad, obedient slaves.

3. Dogtooth
Dogtooth manages to successfully mix family drama, comedy, sci-fi, horror, and pornography into a perplexing whole! What is their not to love? Alien monster cats never had it so bad…

2. The Secret in Their Eyes
In America, the Thriller has become an uninventive wasteland for half-baked legal dramas and atmospheric horror movies without the gore. Apparently in Argentina they haven’t jettisoned the intricate set pieces, the wrenching human element, and the crackling suspense that makes the genre watchable. Be prepared to question your basic understanding of morality and justice…

1. Mother
I can’t describe what Joon-ho Bong does with a camera. It’s a slow, contemplative explosion buffeted by vague dialogue and shattered characters. I could not look away, not once. The tension was delicious, and I still don’t know to what purpose it was used, but it doesn’t really matter. Movies don’t always have to make sense to be masterpieces.

Honorable Mention: True Grit, The Arbor, Dog Pound, The Exploding Girl, and brilliantlove

Stephen Tobolowsky Wisdom

Wayne Lorenzo Titus — Thu, 02 Dec 2010 18:51:36 +0000

“Relationships are the true time machine in that they exist in the past, present and future at the same time.”

Nighttime Poetry

Wayne Lorenzo Titus — Sun, 28 Nov 2010 17:40:33 +0000

Why is there a space between
Pain that slides and vibrates
Your Insides

It is always late but never easy
If I could control my fate,
I could let my words
free and reclaim “I”
from “What might be”

Pretty Funny, Huh?

Centurion’s Blind Ambition

Wayne Lorenzo Titus — Fri, 24 Sep 2010 13:23:43 +0000

The sword and sandals genre has had a woeful resurgence of late. Not since the Hercules/Maciste/Samson films of the 50’s and 60’s have bare-chested bravura, tunics, and dusty sandals been such a hit at the box office. Recent unfortunate examples include Troy, 300, Clash of the Titans, and Prince of Persia. They all trade on our communal knowledge of some vague, ancient fable which is subsequently blown up in favor of intricate chases, encounters between massive battalions, and monster fights. I’m not a particular fan of the genre, considering sweaty Cro-Magnon brows coupled with wooden dialogue and undisciplined extras all stuffed into grandiose settings do not tempt me as they do some.

Hence I entered Neil Marshall’s new film, Centurion, with equal parts apprehension and growing nausea. But don’t paint me a devotee of self-flagellation just yet. I reasoned that, with starring roles from both Michael Fassbender (Hunger, Inglourious Basterds) and Dominic West (The Wire), there would at least be top-notch, testosterone-soaked emoting on a grand scale….

Check out the rest of my review on mediapora

Asian American International Film Festival Preview

Wayne Lorenzo Titus — Thu, 08 Jul 2010 03:42:20 +0000

This year the AAIFF runs from July 15th to July 24th. With a smaller selection of films from last year, the choices are consistently good and occasionally remarkable. Opening Night has been handed over to award-winning Filmmaker Raymond Red, who is no stranger to international audiences. He was the first and remains the only Filipino to have won the Palme d’Or in Cannes for his 2000 short film, Anino. In Manila Skies we follow Raul (Raul Arellano), a struggling day laborer who tries to cobble together some money for a trip back to his childhood home in Romblon, where he hopes to help his ailing father. Raul’s attempts to secure a more lucrative job abroad are stymied by Manila’s suffocating bureaucracy.

Manila Skies After a disastrous turn of events, Raul ends up using a gun and grenade to return to the innocence he longs for. With guerilla-style framing that emotes claustrophobia and anxiety, Red propels us through the grime and heat of the city and never lets up. Unbalanced by a long, meandering middle section, the film nonetheless is a vital commentary on social injustice in the “modern” world. The Friday night pairing is delectably off-kilter with Slice, a Thai horror thriller screening concurrently with Wo Ai Ni Mommy, a documentary about adoption from China. Slice, taking a cue from recent, excellent Korean thrillers, leaves audiences in brilliant suspension as we meet truly awkward characters in rural settings.

Wo Ai Ni Mommy The opening screen titles of Woi Ai Ni Mommy let us know that since China began its international adoption program, over 70,000 children have been sent to live in American homes. In this bird’s eye documentary we follow one family, the Sadowskys, as they bring home a second orphan from Guangzhou, China to Long Island, New York. Fang Sui Yong, a precocious and head-strong eight year old is forced to acclimate quickly to her new life as Faith Sadowsky. Saturday highlights include Bruce Beresford’s latest, Mao’s Last Dancer. A biopic about Cunxin Li, it tells the story of this renowned ballet dancer’s transition from Communist China, hand-picked by Madam Mao, to his success and struggles in the United States. Though rather predictable in its set pieces, Beresford manages to invest a convincing emotional depth throughout.

Au Revoir Taipei Saturday’s Centerpiece Presentation of Au Revoir Taipei is one of the better films I’ve seen all year, and I promise this is not an overstatement. A love story interrupted by a gangster film, all undone by a screwball comedy is the only apt description for this wonderful romp directed by first time feature director, Arvin Chen. Kai (Jack Yao) is a lovelorn college student, abandoned by his girlfriend, Faye, for the allure of Paris. In his futile attempt to learn French from a book and escape the monotony of waiting until he can see her again, he parks himself on the floor of a local bookstore every day where he meets Susie (Amber Kuo). Interweaving various storylines, Chen takes us through the shops, alleys, and parks of Taipei in crisp, electric night cinematography. We follow a distracted cop, Kai’s best friend, and the gangster’s bumbling henchman as they all try to discern the mystery of love, wrapped up for easy transport. Sunday ends with At the End of Daybreak. Starting with a disturbing scene of animal cruelty which frames the entire film, Ho Yuhang doesn’t shy away from hard truths. Tuck Chai (Tien Yu Chui), an aimless 23 year old, is involved with Ying (Meng Hui Ng), a reckless high school student. They see each other as temporary distractions from the imposition of expectations and responsibilities placed on their young shoulders. Ho Yuhang captures the complexity of familial entanglements, the consequences of corporal punishment, and the lack of class mobility through a kinetic lens that masterfully flows from heart-wrenching close-ups to sweeping action sequences.

At the End of Daybreak Closing Night on July 21st features the Mamma Mia-esque romantic comedy The People I’ve Slept With. Angela (Karin Anna Cheung) has a healthy sexual appetite, and when she finds herself pregnant she must embark on a journey to not only find the father, but herself. The Shorts programs are also rather ambitious with themes as varied as family, love, hidden true stories, humor, and a special focus on Taipei. The First Kiss program includes an ode to the serendipity of love in Tall Enough. From the director of Medicine for Melancholy, Barry Jenkins, we witness the unfolding romance between an interracial couple portrayed in snug frames and tender close-ups.

Tall Enough In another short, Works of Art, a sumptuously filmed New York is explored through Art (Paul Juhn). He is a struggling actor, running to casting calls during lunch breaks from a boring job. Tired of being typecast and ignored, his friend offers him the acting job of a lifetime. While pretending to be someone else, he runs into the one real thing he has been missing all along.

Works of Art Throughout the festival there are also various panels, including ones on green film-making and overcoming copyright hurdles for those so inclined. All in all, this year offers multivalent options, even within the same film. It will not be uncommon that comedy and family drama enthusiasts will be sitting next to each other or thriller junkies and doc hounds will have something to talk about at the same screening. Take a chance, and you’ll probably walk away with a story to tell!

Tribeca Redux San

Wayne Lorenzo Titus — Thu, 20 May 2010 17:55:58 +0000

MicMacs
Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s whimsy (excluding the dismal Alien Resurrection) is near-mythic at this point with a small coterie of films under his belt. MicMacs continues Jeunet’s streak of small, carefully curated jewels. His previous films, The City of Lost Children and Amélie in particular release their brilliance in small doses scattered about the screen in seemingly random trajectories. This technique born of no technique is on full display in MicMacs, as we are introduced to Bazil, our hero, as a child in a disconnected reverie of images, sounds, and emotions made palpable. Primary among those is the death of his father in a mushroom cloud of dust. We are then flung to his adult present where a random bullet to the head propels the inventive plot machinations. Suddenly, we see that Bazil is a man defined by ordnance large and small. When he determines that the manufacturer of the bullet lodged in his brain and that of the mine which killed his father are unrepentant rivals, a singular comeuppance takes form. Of course, all great heroes have compatriots and Bazil’s consist of a group of misifts living underground away from the rest of society. They manifest hijinks by air, sea, and land, which are too artfully crafted to spoil. Jeunet is a master at exposing the soul in dungy crevices, and that’s all it takes to deliver this sumptuous expose on quirkiness with a hint of romance.

Ondine
Neil Jordan re-enters the fray after the Jodie Foster vehicle, The Brave One, with a peculiar Colin Farrell spectacle. The film arrives and leaves painfully slight and undercooked. Farrell (Syracuse) plays a divorced single father, who we are told is a caring dad thanks to a few threadbare scenes with a smart-alecky daughter played by Alison Barry. The story hinges on the improbable tale that Syracuse’s new lover is a selkie, a mythical seal-woman. However, not for one moment was this plausible, nor a fascinating premise. Moreover, the purported selkie, Ondine (Alicja Bachleda) barely registers on the screen. I felt as though a mighty gust would blow her away at any moment. Her coy, enigmatic looks and fragmented statements add up to nothing I could discern. Maybe this film will appeal to children with its peripatetic and facile rhythms that go everywhere and nowhere at once.

A Brand New Life
Somehow reminiscent of Tze Chun’s Children of Invention and So Yong Kim’s Treeless Mountain, this preponderance of abandoned children seems to be a mini-trend. Oddly, I can’t say I’m tired yet of watching these preternatural child actors suffer through harrowing tableaux, especially when they are as good as Sae Ron Kim, who plays Jinhee. Her face is a study in restraint, and I doubt there is any craft involved, as she is so young. We follow her GAZE through riding with her dad on a bike, being left at a Catholic orphanage, deep unresolved mourning, and self-discovery. At all times, our engagement is expertly modulated by the rise of her eyebrow, the downturn of a lip, or an askew glance. I was mesmerized as well by the economy of camera movement director, Ounie Lecomte, and cinematographer, Kim Hyunsook, employ. All the necessary information is relayed in confined frames, akin to Kurosawa’s High and Low but without the stilted formalism. Instead, the film has a quiet, kinetic energy, if possible, that sustains the most mundane scenes of characters walking to and from the orphanage gates. I can’t wait to see absolutely anything else from this first-time director!

Other Notables:

Vidal Sassoon: The Movie– The man, the myth, the meglomaniac all discussed in brilliant black and white cinematography.

Saturday Night– James Franco’s inside look at the preparation involved in one episode of the iconic comedy franchise…John Malkovich in drag anyone?

Gerrymandering– An in-depth dissertation on the often confusing and ridiculous redistricting that occurs before elections to ensure votes by race, class, or population size. Only for die-hard policy wonks!

Tribeca Redux Deux

Wayne Lorenzo Titus — Thu, 13 May 2010 19:43:56 +0000

The Arbor
One of the most unique documentary presentations I’ve seen in recent memory, Clio Barnard tells the story of Andrea Dunbar, a famous British playwright who died tragically at the age of 29. In complete disavowal of the usual stock and archival footage and expert analysis, Barnard has professional actors lip sync interviews with Dunbar’s relatives and partners as they interact in the real world. This technique creates an uncanny effect which displaces the narrative and actively mediates the logical-factual truth dichotomy which most documentaries bring up implicitly. Barnard then intersperses these moments with scenes from Dunbar’s plays acted out on the grounds of the actual estate in which they are set, amongst gawking real-life crowds. The Arbor is a challenging piece of performance art wrapped within an evidential premise that rewards multiple viewings.

American Mystic
So a medium, a sundancer, and a witch walk into a bar…My skeptic’s armor was on as I sat through this look at alternative spirituality. In slow, rhythmic scenes which predictably stop-in on each character for ten minutes at some vital juncture and then repeats, Alex Mar manages to raise the import of communication with the dead, Native American animism, and paganism to the level of any Christian religion. They all decidedly have tenets, parishioners, and an apprenticeship structure despite their outsider reputations (minus Native American beliefs perhaps). Listening to the subjects in their own words is a very intimate and convincing tool. Like all of us, they are looking for meaning in the environment around them. Although the signs they are attuned to may be foreign, the purpose remains the same.

Loose Cannons
A nice departure from the melodramatic onslaught of his last film, Un giorno perfetto (A Perfect Day), Ferzan Ozpetek lightens up just a bit. The themes of family, food, and love still abound, but they are at the service of a comedy. The story is framed by the youthful mistakes of the family matriarch, played by a commanding Ilaria Occhini. However, in present day southern Italy her grandson, Tomasso, wishes to avoid becoming part of the family pasta business and instead follow his writing bug. His only way out is to come out and risk his father’s banishment. Unfortunately his brother hijacks that plan, and Tomasso must contend with his familial obligations despite a desire to return to his life in Rome. I can’t say I thoroughly enjoyed this film with its soap opera lineage flagrantly on display, but fans of this filmmaker will still come out in droves. A lot of the cultural semblance is also lost on an American audience and the acting is broad to put it nicely, but Ozpetek always manages to get at some central truth about human interactions despite his lavish detours.

Arias with a Twist: The Docufantasy
This documentary is an utterly charming look at the New York underground wunderkind, Joey Arias, and his sometimes puppeteer collaborator, Basil Twist as they prepare for their groundbreaking new show. The wonderfully inventive Twist sadly seems like a sideshow to the Arias main attraction. It is Arias’ restless re-invention, legendary collaborations, and perseverance through loss that drives the narrative and holds interest. When people are on screen describing how great Joey is, you just want to see Joey being great. When Arias channels Billie Holiday in various guises and countries, I truly did get goosebumps and the theater suddenly got a little steamy. He managed to capture all of her soulful frailty–it was not an impersonation in any traditional sense but some sort of celestial convergence. We follow Arias from his days as a clerk in Fiorucci’s clothing store to his performances with Klaus Nomi and on to his master of ceremonies duties with Cirque du Soleil’s Zumanity. I was wholly entranced by his journey and my only regret is that the film ended so quickly.

Legacy
This psychological drama stars Idris Elba as a returning mercenary for hire, who deals with the demons of his most recent mission in the claustrophobic confines of a Brooklyn apartment. Playing crazy is notoriously difficult because all the tics we associate with madness read as comic when transported to the big screen. Elba is certainly a multi-talented actor as his turns on The Wire, The Office, and countless British gangster films attest. However, jettisoning his natural charisma for a paranoid, blistering portrayal isn’t wholly successful. At times Elba does resort to calibrated histrionics which read as false when we have the luxury of seeing so many PTSD sufferers in real life. Moreover, the director, Thomas Ikimi cloaks the proceedings in a political plot that never really goes anywhere. Ultimately we are left with a competently executed thriller with no real thrills. Moments which question the character’s perception of reality are intriguing, but they also don’t seem to play into a larger thematic cohesion and come off as cheap tricks. In interviews, the director speaks of an affinity for Hitchcock, but he has yet to master his use of misdirection and understatement. Nonetheless, I look forward to how Ikimi’s style might develop with future projects.

Tribeca Redux Uno

Wayne Lorenzo Titus — Tue, 11 May 2010 16:23:23 +0000

Snap
Honestly I can’t tell you what this movie is about at all and that perhaps is a failing in me, but halfway through the screening I began to wonder if the director, Carmel Winters, was simply testing the limits of comprehension in some wry clinical manner. We follow a foul-mouthed mother as she is being interviewed about some undisclosed tragedy, the same mother sometime in the past, and a seemingly unrelated story of a young man as he alternately taunts and nurtures an accommodating baby. I suppose the film is about some trauma that is represented by the fractured mis-en-scene, but I may not be the right audience for such an achingly pedantic journey. The lead performance of Aisling O’Sullivan is certainly stirring, but to what ends?

Elvis & Madona
Could this possibly be the first film about a drag queen and lesbian relationship? It might as well be, for Brazil’s Marcelo Laffitte has unquestionably made a landmark romantic comedy. Despite contending with an obviously low budget and limited actors, this was a buried gem in the festival. The infectious love for passionate failure, dreaming in color, and struggling artists on screen was a welcome antidote to the spate of more dour films this year. Even the more brutal scenes with Madona’s ex-lover seemed somehow tender and revelatory. Let’s make way for a new cult classic!

Sons of Perdition
Three young men escape from the suffocating strictures of Warren S. Jeffs polygamist sect in order to determine their own fate. This documentary, directed by Tyler Measom and Jennilyn Merten, trails Sam, Bruce, and Joe as they deal with the traumatic loss of their families and the often confusing roadblocks which limit their educational and job prospects. The lack of structure unsurprisingly encourages the normal teenage psyche to claim dominance and alcohol, drugs, and sex become coping mechanisms as they acclimate. Jeffs’ eerie voice, intoning tenets from the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, serves as the connective tissue between fragmented vignettes– attempted rescues of a sister and mother from the compound, giddy salon visits where new freedom is expressed in blond highlights, and talking heads with intimate knowledge of the polygamists. Ultimately the audience is drawn into the plight of these exiles not necessarily because of where they came from, but out of worry for their future.

brilliantlove
An all-consuming, explicit romance à la 9 Songs, Ashley Horner drops us into the middle of a lit fuse soaked in gasoline. The sweaty, prelapsarian garage in which Manchester and Noon copulate ferociously is a dream-like space undisturbed by the rest of humanity. When they leave their dilapidated Eden to pilfer food or drink the devil’s nectar, only danger skulks about the countryside– a real threat to their prolonged incubation. We are repeatedly asked to ponder whether their brilliant love can survive the temptations of money and fame. In an almost childlike, rudimentary way the images build up to some pleasing whole, and I found myself caring for these slight, naive characters despite themselves. You want them to win, even as you marvel at their mere existence.

Dog Pound
From the first image to the last, this film never allows one moment of passive engagement. Kim Chapiron shows us the inner madness of a juvenile detention facility located near some region of hell. We follow three young criminals as they are shuffled through the system and left to fend for themselves amongst embittered correction officers, adult felons waiting to blossom, and a racial stratification right out of your typical 70′s prison movie. The strangely charismatic star of the film is Butch (Adam Butcher), a sociopath with a heart of gold. His frighteningly contained anger is a palpable threat which gives the film most of its jolt. We watch him slowly rise the ranks by cajoling, threatening, and mauling all those in his way. By mixing real juvie delinquents and actors the film manages to contain a really oppressive sense of dread in an after-school special setting.