Only God Forgives Review

Why do we always need someone to root for?

One of the common complaints I have read regarding the brilliant Nicolas Winding Refn film Only God Forgives is that it lacks relatable, likable characters, which is such a strange thing to perceive as a flaw. What we are witnessing is an abstract, surreal world richly bathed in neon colors and unsettling imagery. It is nightmarish, a fever dream glimpse at the criminal underworld of Bangkok. It is meant to baffle, to anger, to linger in your mind long after you are done watching. Only God Forgives isn't a film that strives to fit in any traditional, Hollywood mold, one that demands a protagonist with a heartbreaking back story that charms his way into our souls. This is a story involving revenge but not one that asks us to stand up and cheer if the vengeance is eventually realized. 

Only God Forgives doesn't have a hero. Why does it need one?

If you are watching a film like this with the intention of falling in love with the characters as a way of connecting on an emotional level, you are watching it wrong. Refn doesn't give a shit how we feel, nor should he, at least not right away. His vision is profound not because of what we see or feel on the surface but rather because of the layers we need to peel back after multiple viewings to fully appreciate just how dense the narrative is. I don't blame anyone for believing that Only God Forgives "isn't about anything" after their first viewing, it is completely understandable to feel cold about a work seemingly so distant from anything close to a beating heart, but watch it again before you admonish it for being soulless or empty. Over the course of 90 minutes, our eyes will have drowned in the color red and our minds will be racing to search for meaning. Don't give up so quickly. Trust me, it's there.

The initial unflinching wave of critical backlash towards Only God Forgives was disheartening, but not because of the general concept of them not liking the film. Any one person is completely entitled to their opinion. No, the fact that we instantly turn to a aggregate score on a website as the end all, be all to judge a films success rather than decide for ourselves is unfortunate, especially for a movie that demands patience and an open mind to be appreciated. We live in such a small, cynical world where four minutes after the final frame has left the screen an onslaught of angry tweets have already swayed public opinion to head down a negative path. It's as if we as a cinema enthused society have decided having to actually work a little in a theater is a bad thing. Perhaps instead of instantly writing off art and being in a hurry to move on, we should take a second to let the craft of an auteur sink a little deeper into our subconscious. 

Perhaps we should stop always searching for heroes, for the "good guy" to come swooping in at the last second to save the innocent. Perhaps not every story deserves to end in a parade of joy as we celebrate the righteousness of the human spirit. Perhaps sometimes the best we should expect from a person is that they are able to recognize how they have sinned and accept their punishment for such transgressions. When Julian (Ryan Gosling) stares at his hands in Only God Forgives, it isn't the dull, meaningless moment that so many have made it out to be. Refn is showing us the culprits, the tools utilized by a man with a past that haunts him.

Julian is no hero, and we don't need to like him. Only a god could ever forgive.

5/5

Jauja Review

As I continue to explore fascinating foreign language cinema, the types of work I used to unfortunately ignore, I have found myself constantly puzzled and being forced to sleep on a film before being able to form a coherent thought or two to start my write-up.

In other words, it has been an amazing and rewarding time for me and my understanding of the medium lately, and that continues with the gorgeous new film Jauja. The final frame left the screen and there I was, staring at a spot on the wall as I contemplated what I had just seen. A shit eating grin plastered on my face, I'm sure.

Jauja debuted last year at the Cannes Film Festival and has been seen at other fests and released in other countries since, but it is finally getting its limited release here in the United States just now. I recall catching wind of some very positive word of mouth months ago and being annoyed at just how long it would be before I could see it.

It was worth the wait.

Director of Photography Timo Salminen puts a very unique spin on this film with the way it is framed, using a 4:3 aspect ratio with rounded corners that brought a surreal feel to the entire experience, as if I was watching an old slideshow of moving photographs rather than a film. By utilizing this approach with the landscapes that make up the setting of the picture, the result is an overall haunting and spellbinding enigmatic movie that is difficult to wrap my head around.

A friend and fellow cinema enthusiastic mentioned a similarity to the Australian classic Picnic at Hanging Rock by Peter Weir, which I watched and reviewed for the first time recently, and I definitely could feel those vibes flowing through Jauja. At one point a mangy dog plays an important role as to literally what direction Gunnar (Viggo Mortensen) takes going forward and I couldn't help but notice that it looked like it had walked out of the "Zone" in the Tarkovsky masterpiece Stalker and headed straight for the desolate landscapes of Jauja. 

I have no idea what previous pictures played a role in influencing this fascinating new work from Lisandro Alonso but it's easy to tell that the lifeblood of incredible work from decades past is flowing through the veins of Jauja. Some may find the languid pacing to be more trouble than its worth, and at times during the first half of the film I will admit it felt as if very little was actually happening, but for me the methodical movements within a frame and the way shots would linger on seemingly nothing all added to the mysticism that I completely fell in love with.

It's early and literally dozens of pictures are still on their way to try and surpass it, but as of right now Jauja is my favorite film of 2015.

4.5/5

Picnic at Hanging Rock Review

I used to always seek out as much information about a film before seeing it, under the mindset that prior knowledge would lead to a better comprehension during the experience and thus a more rewarding one.

Lately I have been doing the opposite, knowing nothing but the title at the moment I pressed play and I gotta tell you, comprehension is overrated. I could get used to this.

Picnic at Hanging Rock, a film from 1975 by director Peter Weir, is one that seems to defy any hope of comprehension upon a debut viewing. If you were able to watch this only once and claim to know exactly what was happening at all times, claim to have a complete understand of its thematic significance, I actually don't envy you, I feel sorry for you. The befuddled feeling I had as the story moved towards its conclusion was oddly exciting and instead of feeling like I had completed a journey when it finished, ironically I know I have only just begun.

The year is 1900 and on Valentine's Day, a group of female students and their teachers decide to go on a picnic at a location known as Hanging Rock, but not everyone returns back to the school when some of the girls and a teacher of theirs seem to completely vanish and no one knows how or why. The film almost feels like a dream, a surreal experience that is difficult to put into words, a lyrical and brilliantly crafted picture that almost certainly will get better with age and revisits. 

One part horror, another part mystery, an alluring mysticism and seemingly a whole lot of sexual repression. The recipe that created Picnic at Hanging Rock.

4/5

The Trial Review

When I am preparing to watch a film for the first time, a lot of different things will fly through my head regarding expectations, both in terms of the quality of the work and also regarding what tone and atmosphere I am anticipating. A majority of the time exactly what I expected is in fact realized on screen or, if their are differences, they are relatively minor in the grand scheme of things. "Oh, this is a bit darker than I expected." or "I had no idea how funny this would be" are common examples of this. 

On a whole different level is an experience like Orson Welles 1962 film The Trial. Prior to pressing play, I had pictured in my mind a serious, straightforward drama regarding, well, a trial. A courtroom setting, a jury of their peers, witnesses and testimony and evidence and hearsay, the works. I would have never guessed that I would be diving head first until a world that literally felt like a nightmare, a black and white pool of surrealism that had me literally scratching my head in befuddlement throughout, but without a doubt I was mostly fascinated by the cinematic vision on display.

It is important to note that I said "mostly fascinated" because unfortunately, I started to grow weary of everything I initially embraced about The Trial during the first half or so. The onslaught of surreal started to feel a bit tired, but not enough that I ever actually completely checked out mentally. Still lingering was a fascination with the premise itself, that a man could be arrested for an undisclosed crime and be totally in the dark as to why his life was being flipped upside down. A part of me wanted answers, but really I don't think I ever truly did. The mystery and the confusion felt far more exciting and rewarding than whatever traditional conclusion a narrative like this could come to. 

It was a joy to watch Anthony Perkins work with different material, as somehow I had literally only ever seen him in the original Psycho prior to this experience. Despite the many, many films I see, my countless amounts of viewings of Psycho were the only basis I had for his abilities, so it was strange, trying to wrap my head around this very familiar face playing a different character besides Norman Bates.

At one point, The Trial absolutely had me around it's finger and I was melting with delight with every sublime example of how the usage of lighting can create an ominous world of shadows. I absolutely cherish surrealism and the ability to think for myself regarding the themes in play, a chance to think bolder and deeper about cinema than a simple story that moves along from point A to point B and C in a traditional sense. 

I only wish The Trial had held me tight and never let go throughout rather than feeling strangely redundant at times in its absurdity. A very good film that fell short of greatness. 

3.5/5

Escape from Tomorrow Review

On paper, the film Escape from Tomorrow is too fascinating to ignore. The debut work from writer-director Randy Moore, the story of the film revolves around a family, the father being the focal point, on vacation at Disney World. After learning that he was losing his job, the man begins a descent into madness, encountering disturbing experiences and visions all the while trying to spend the day with his wife and children. The psychosis is not the only thing that serves as a distraction for the man as he catches a glimpse of two teenage French girls and he simply cannot look away. His attraction to these underage girls and his desire to follow them throughout the park is far more unsettling than the imagery portrayed throughout.

However, the controversy surrounding the film, not the content, is what placed it on a must see list for me. Escape from Tomorrow was created using guerrilla filmmaking techniques because while the entire work was created on location in Disney World, the required request for permission to do so was never obtained by Moore, as he instead decided to keep the scripts on the iPhones of those involved in the production and he filmed using a standard handheld camera no different from what a regular guest of the park might bring to capture memories. On this level, and this level only, the film is an achievement, as I expected a far more amateurish feel to the feature and I admire the ability to craft a competent film given the situation presented and the resources available.

As I mentioned at the start of the review, on paper the film demands to be seen. As someone who often finds value in an original concept or the challenge of getting a film made and released on a limited budget, I found myself endlessly excited to experience a film like Escape from Tomorrow. Unfortunately, while my excitement was derived from what was on paper, it all died once I was able to actually see it on screen. In the process of reading up about the film, I encountered a few comments comparing not just the surrealist approach but the actual finished product to the visionary auteur David Lynch. Personally, I find such comparisons to be misguided and even disgraceful, on a similar level to a comparison between myself and LeBron James because I once scored 30 points in a game when I was 11 years old. Nothing that actually took place on screen worked as I found every attempt to disturb the viewer via tone and imagery to be laughable, but even those laughs fueled by derision were short lived. Roughly halfway through the 90 minute slog of a film I found myself checking the clock and wishing it would move faster so I could go to sleep and concoct a dream world far more fascinating than what was realized by Moore.

I recall back when I first learned of this film, everyone was anticipating legal action from Disney for using their name, their iconic images and their locations without permission, and much to my surprise Disney chose to ignore it. The internet was filled with comments regarding how cool it was of Disney to look the other way and allow an independent filmmaker to profit off of their copyrighted property, but I couldn't help but wonder if, in reality, it was simply a brilliant business decision by Disney to scoff at the tiny little film and move along. Ironically, the only way Escape from Tomorrow flourishes as a film and becomes a cult sensation with somewhat broad appeal is if Disney makes headlines through lawsuits and statements and lengthy court battles. If the film is asked to stand on its own merit, it will fall fast and be quickly forgotten.

With about 15 minutes of the film remaining early this morning, my Blu-ray player froze. In retrospect, this was likely the cinematic gods providing me a chance to shut the damn thing off and declare the film a failure, but I took the time to get the machine working again so I could absorb every second of it, maintaining that glimmer of hope that a terrific ending would slightly redeem every terrible moment that I had endured thus far. I should have listened to the gods and got out when I had the opportunity.

Escape from Tomorrow? More like escape from bland filmmaking and phony, uninspired surrealism.



1/5