film geeks 2.0

Five Films By Guillermo del Toro

Guillermo del Toro is a young Mexican filmmaker with a keen eye and a dramatic sense of style. Del Toro's work is primarily in the horror/fantasy and horror/action genres, and his interesting and watchable movies stand out in a genre that's often dominated by run-of-the-mill garbage. In fact, it might be fair to call him the David Cronenberg of his generation. What separates del Toro from Cronenberg and his peers is the unabashed moralistic stories that his movies present. Del Toro is as interested in concepts like right and wrong and good and evil as he is in horrific imagery and scares. It may be a byproduct of his devoutly Catholic upbringing, or simply a matter of his personal character. Either way, del Toro's films are filled with religious imagery, characters driven by moral choices, and even a distinct sense of reverence toward that which is simply good.

And on top of all that, when you see him interviewed or see him discussing his work on a DVD featurette, he comes off like one heck of a nice guy.

Five of del Toro's films are presented here for your consideration:

Pan's Labyrinth (El Laberinto del Fauno)

Scheduled to be released in the US in December of this year, del Toro's latest film seems to be a treasure chest full of the things that make his work distinctive and interesting. Del Toro, like Cronenberg, Tim Burton and David Fincher, brings an uniquely artistic flair to his films, and his thumbprint is all over the teaser preview for Pan's Labyrnith:

The preview at once evokes del Toro's earlier work and classic children's literature, and conjured up memories of Legend, a Ridley Scott film from my youth. I have the highest of hopes for this film.

Hellboy

Artistically, Hellboy was quite remarkable, remaining both true to the original source material (Mike Mignola's Hellboy comic books) and employing del Toro's own sole sensibilities at once. The film isn't flawless, the story bogs down a bit toward the end and there are a number of plot holes, but the film has almost as succeeds purely in terms of fun and fantasy.

As is always the case with del Toro, even in this comic book romp, there are moral lessons to be considered and character studies that are worthy of classroom analysis. Hellboy himself is demon, raised from hell as an infant by Nazis who hoped to use him as a weapon against he allied forces during World War II. The Nazis failed, however, and the baby demon was adopted and raised by a benevolent scientist who believed that, if given the proper surroundings, Hellboy might become something more than a mere monster. He might, in fact, become good if given the chance. The movie's thesis sentence is "In the absence of light, darkness prevails," and in Hellboy we see a character struggling with his own nature. In classic comic book style, Hellboy takes some of the most essential, philosophically ponderous questions about life and serves them up like an amusement park ride.

Hellboy himself might be seen as a metaphor for all of us, capable of both tremendous good and startling evil. What better image for the human struggle against our own weaknesses than a demon who saws off his horns so he'll "blend in," and who carries a crucifix and a holy water with him at all times? Arguably, Hellboy is del Toro's most overtly Catholic film, with undertones of confession, confirmation and baptism… and with Christian imagery intrinsically built right into the movie's very environment.

Blade II

Sequels usually, suck, and a sequel handed off to a different director than the one behind the original is almost always guaranteed to stink up the theater… so it's a welcome surprise that del Toro's Blade II is not only a fine film, but better than it's predecessor. Here's the climactic scene from the movie, featuring Blade the vampire killer at war with a number of bloodsuckers, including Ron "Hellboy" Pearlman:

Del Toro may have had no choice with regard to some of the stylistic elements of the film. I'm sure that the studio insisted on a number of facets that made the first movie a success, including a pop soundtrack and the visual form of the main character and his enemies. Nonetheless, del Toro's contributions to Blade II are distinct. The primary villains in the film aren't the vampires themselves, but the "reapers," a race of super vampires who feed on other vampires. The reapers are some of the most hideous movie monsters ever seen on the big screen. When they feed, their lower mandible opens like an insect, allowing them to get not just their victim's neck, but most of his or her head, into the reaper's mouth. It's pretty disgusting and makes for an easy queue to root against the reapers.

And, like in Hellboy, the primary character is another nonhuman struggling with his own nature. Blade is the "daywalker," a half-human/half-vampire creature who has sworn to protect humanity from the bloodsuckers. Like Hellboy, Blade was raised by a human protector who saw in him the potential for good. His vampire nature makes him a particularly good vampire hunter, since he's privy to their instincts, needs and desires. It also makes him vulnerable to the same weaknesses that a vampire has to deal with, including a need for blood and an aversion to assorted vampiric iconography. Blade deals with his bloodlust with a kind of antibiotic that he must inject daily.

Blade II excels as an action movie and as pure comic book escapism, but like Hellboy, there's more there to chew on if you want it.

Devil's Backbone (El Espinazo Del Diablo)

Easily del Toro's finest film, this independently financed and released Spanish-language stunner was filmed in Spain after del Toro's negative experience making the big budget Hollywood feature Mimic. Devil's Backbone is the best kind of ghost story in that it's so much more than simply a tale of the supernatural. Like all of del Toro's work, Devil's Backbone is also a story about people, about the choices that they make, and the way that a person's choices ultimately determine both is deeper character and his fate.

Set in 1939 during the Spanish civil war, this film takes place almost entirely in an orphanage beset by a number of problems. There is little or no food for the children, and there are rumors that a considerable quantity of gold has been hidden from the government by rebel fighters on the grounds. As forces both outside and inside the orphanage conspire to find the gold, the grounds themselves seem to be stirred by painful memories of the recent and distant past. Ghosts appear, especially in the form of Santi, a young boy who's death at the orphanage was never solved. Meanwhile, an unexploded bomb sits ominously in the middle of the grounds, awaiting a hoped for removal that might never come. You can watch the trailer in various formats here.

Devil's Backbone weaves it's story with quiet subtlety, pulling you and catching you off guard emotionally. A brilliant performance by Federico Luppi as the orphanage doctor gives the movie an important gravitas that makes even it's most supernatural elements believable and compelling. The first time I watched the movie, as the events in the story unfolded, I found myself as emotionally invested in this story as in any I've ever seen. Devil's Backbone is a remarkable, unforgettable achievement.

Cronos

Del Toro's first film to land him cult status (along with a number of international awards) was Cronos, a story about vampirism, immortality, and the ties that bond us to our families. It's a fanciful and ambitious film, made on a shoestring budget in the early 90's. The young del Toro was so determined to get this movie made, in spite of the complete absence of anyone to help him with the special effects, that he set up his own special effects company and learned how to do the explosions, blood squibs and lighting all by himself. The trailer is available here, if you can get it to play, which is more than I could do.

Cronos is the story of an alchemist from the 17th century who created a device that gives it's user immortality… if he's willing to use it regularly, and if he's willing to consume human blood… and assuming that he actually likes the idea of his family dying off before him while he lives on forever. The movie presents immortality on Earth as a starkly, unimaginably dark concept, and it's clear that, within this story, anyone who'd seek it must be corrupt, deranged and dangerous. When the device accidentally falls into the hands of an antique store dealer, he unknowingly activates it and succumbs to its addictive qualities. Meanwhile, a selfish billionaire has dispatched his brute nephew (again, Ron Pearlman) to retrieve the device by any means necessary. Cronos is del Toro's crudest and most elementary film, but it's also his most morally unambiguous, presenting selfishness, violence and blind ambition as clearly evil and things like family, love, and the acceptance of death as good qualities to strive for.

Guillermo del Toro is neither the best young filmmaker working today, nor the most over-hyped, in spite of what some on the internet might say. His talents and qualities are the match of his ambition, and his films are typically enjoyable, smart and moral. I look forward to a lifetime of quality work from the noteworthy talent.

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DVD Review: Network

On paper, Network should be unwatchable. On paper, this Sidney Lumet-directed, Paddy Chayefsky-penned classic from '76 should be a convoluted, pompous mess of a movie. All of the things that ruin lesser films are present, here: Characters deliver long monologues in the pretense of conversation. The plot goes from stark realism to outrageous fantasy by the middle of the second act. Many of the principle characters themselves are so extreme as to seem cartoonish. It shouldn't work. On paper, Network should be the kind of film that people don't even finish watching.

The reason Network not only succeeds but actually triumphs is that the film is the product of a director, writer and actors all working at the peak of their considerable talents. Thirty years after it's release, Network not only endures, it actually grows in relevance, power and importance. There hasn't been a better film than Network in the past fifty years, and only a handful of movies are it's equal.

The two disc, 2006 special edition of Network is a treasure, and every second of footage on both discs is worth the watching. In a day when the very idea of special editions is devalued by two-disc sets dedicated to films like the Texas Chainsaw remake and Oliver Stone's already bloated Alexander, this set is peerless. You can't send nineteen bucks in a better way than in the purchase of this edition.

Like the best satire, Network presents itself with a straight face and wide eyes. The film never winks at the viewer. In fact, Chayefsky insisted that he hadn't written the script intending satire, but rather as a straight reflection of what he saw in the present and future of America's TV news media. Given thirty years to reflect, Chayefsky seems as much a prophet as a playwrite.

The film tells the story of major network news anchor Howard Beale (Peter Finch), who's informed by his boss and old friend Max Schumacher (William Holden) that the network is going to fire their anchor due to poor ratings. Beale takes the news badly, and announces on the air that he plans to commit suicide on an upcoming live broadcast. The network's PR people scramble to undo any damage that Beale's rant may have done to the news department's credibility … but then, something strange happens. Network head honcho Frank Hackett (Robert Duvall) learns that Beale's suicidal rant has actually boosted the network's ratings. Suddenly, for the first time in ages, the network's news department is drawing a viable market share.

Because of the ratings, credibility takes a back seat to marketability. The news department is placed under the direction of the entertainment department, and the clearly insane Beale is allowed to keep his job and stay on the air. Beale's ranting and raving continue, and continue to draw more and more viewers… and the network begins to build their news department around Beale's insanity.

Implausible? No. Don't dispense with the notion that a major TV network would allow a clearly demented figure to head a major news broadcast in the name of ratings. Consider Dan Rather. Consider Bill O'Reilly.

Watching Network today is almost eerie. As Beale's program gets increasingly weirder, incorporating stained glass windows and psychics, your instincts might be to balk. No network news program would become something so perverse, right? Well, think about it. Beale's deranged program only lacks one thing that today's modern TV network news broadcasts have retained: attempted subtlety. Just like in Network, today's TV network news programs have replaced objective reporting with an odd form of info-tainment that incorporates circus clowns and soothsayers of doom. Today's news anchors are every bit the circus ringleader that Beale is, marketing outrage to a culture that can't get enough of it. Just like Beale's audience, America's primetime news viewers love to get mad, even if they're not sure why their mad, or exactly who the targets of their anger should be. We're not interested in the details. Minutiae is boring. Outrage isn't.

Peter Finch won a well deserved posthumous Oscar for his portrayal of Beale, and his performance is matched by everyone in this steller cast. Holden, the displaced news director, is weary and authentic as a man drawn slowly into a madness that he no longer wants to fight. Duvall, cast against type, is a convincing and hateful villain. Best of all is Faye Dunaway as Diana Christensen, the network's entertainment director. Dunaway is devastating and beautiful, here; perfectly conveying the youngest member of the cast as a product of the first television generation, the first age of people to be turned back into the machine that created them. Christensen is unable to think about anything other than ratings and marketing, even coldly studying her own psychological problems as though they were the elements of a failing sitcom. Dunaway's performance in Network is unforgettable.

Other elements of the film perfectly parody TV's coverage of '70's touchstones such as the Patty Hearst kidnapping and self-styled revolutionary Angela Davis. If you're old enough to remember those people and events, the movie's sly observations will strike home. If not, then the way TV deals with (and creates) news in the film will resonate on it's own.

In Network's best known sequence, Howard Beale encourages his audience to go to their windows and shout to the world that they're "mad as hell and not going to take it anymore." The streets in towns and cities across the nation reverberate with the shouts of Beale's sheep, doing his bidding as commanded. But what, exactly, is everyone mad at? Beale's muddled attempt at an explanation for his rage only confounds the situation. Only Diana Christensen recognizes the situation for what it really is: simply one more sign of a ratings triumph. Beale's followers have bought his outrage and they're eating out of the palm of his hand. Thirty years later, Chayefsky dire vision of the American news media... and, more importantly, it's audience... has been realized. In 2006, TV news depends on an audience willing to believe anything the info-tainment department wants to sell us, as long as it's outrageous. Thirty years later, we're still dumb as hell, and we'll take all of it we can buy.

Watch one of Howard Beale's vulgar, nutty and
absolutely honest rants about television...
and how his audience just doesn't get it:

Nehring Blog Carnival

Nehring The Edge is holding a blog carnival:

We're looking for movie reviews, DVD reviews, screenwriting tips, industry news, opinion pieces...anything relating to cinema. High brow or low brow, Hollywood or otherwise let yourself be heard.

Sounds like fun... We'll see ya there.

DVD Review: The Wicker Man (1973 Version)

According to the trivia page for the original 1973 production of The Wicker Man at the IMDb, lead actor Edward Woodward was accidentally urinated on by a goat during the filming of the movie's final scene. Apparently, the footage of the goat peeing on the star was cut from the final print of the film. I don't have the slightest idea why. A scene featuring a goat peeing on the main character would have made every bit as much sense as every other scene that was actually left in this garish mess of a film.

I'll warn you now that this review WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS… although I also think it's fair to say that the movie's posters, cover-art and promotional material are all full of spoilers, too. In fact, the very NAME OF THE MOVIE gives away the ending. It's as though The Sixth Sense had been titled Bruce Willis Is A Ghost. There isn't much more to this movie than what appears on the surface, and if you have any interest in watching it, I honestly don't believe that knowing the story will effect your appreciation of the film one way or the other.

A new version of The Wicker Man arrives in theaters this week. I have been curious about the film because it's director, Neil LaBute, has made a few good films. First, though, I wanted to see the original. I've heard it said that the original version of The Wicker Man is one of the scariest horror movies ever made… and as a film buff and a fan of good, scary movies, I've wanted to see it for ages.

Trouble is, it hasn't been available to rent anywhere in these parts. So when Wendy found it available to check out at the library at college, we were both thrilled. Finally, we'd get to see this mysterious so-called "masterpiece" of horror. We couldn’t wait.

Having now seen it, I'm at a bit of a loss as to what to say about it. I'll say this much confidently, though. This is not a horror movie. It isn't scary, it doesn't seem to want to be scary, and I can't imagine why anyone would consider it scary. No, horror is not the genre wherein to classify this movie. I suppose it deserves the invention of it's own genre: musical soft-core pagan murder mystery. If I had to describe this film, that's exactly what I'd call it. The Wicker Man is a musical soft-core pagan murder mystery.

Here's a summary of the plot: A detective from the Scottish mainland (played by Edward Woodward who members of my generation might remember as The Equalizer) travels by private plane to a small isle off the coast of Scotland to investigate the case of a missing young girl. Soon after he arrives on the island, the locals begin to behave strangely. First, they tell him that he isn't wanted there. He insists that he has the legal right and jurisdiction as a police officer to be there. The detective begins questioning the locals about the missing girl and ends up going to the local inn to get a room. While he's checking in, the local men gather around and sing a raunchy (I suppose) song about the inn-keeper's daughter, who is played by model Brit Ekland. After he checks into his room, the inn keeper's daughter goes into the bedroom next door and takes off all of her clothing and starts singing an odd folk song while pounding on the walls and then goes to sleep. Really. It's one of the most gratuitous nude scenes I've ever seen in a movie… and although I won't pretend that it offended me, I did find it very odd. More of a Cinemax After Dark kind of thing then something you'd expect to see in a horror movie.

It was at this point that I began to doubt that The Wicker Man was really a horror movie after all.

The next morning, the detective goes around the town asking questions about the missing girl. During his travels he sees a May-Pole dance (with accompanying song) an odd nude fertility dance/ritual (with, of course, it's own song) and he eventually finds a grave marked with the name of the missing girl in the local cemetery. By this time the detective is convinced that the island folk are witches of some sort, and a trip to the local library turns up a book about human sacrifices and blood rituals. Soon after, he meets the island's patriarch, Lord Summerisle, played by the legendary Christopher Lee.

The detective revels himself in his conversations to be a devoutly Christian man, and he's quite taken aback by the pagan practices of seemingly everyone on the island. Lord Summerisle tells the detective that the residents of the island have been pagan for at least a couple of generations, and that their pagan faith is peaceful and honorable and that they'd not have murdered the little girl or anyone else. All the same, the detective insists that he be allowed to exhume the girl's body. Once he and the cemetery grounds keeper dig up the coffin, they find a dead rabbit inside. The detective takes the dead rabbit to Lord Summerisle's home and throws it at his feet, pronouncing that he's now sure that the young girl is still alive and that the locals plan to sacrifice her in a spring ritual the next day. He says that he plans to leave in the morning and come back with a full garrison of police officers, but it turns out the next morning that his plane has been sabotaged.

At this point the locals begin emerging from their homes in odd costumes; dressed as animals and monsters, etc. Christopher Lee then shows up in drag, looking like Cher on a bad water-weight-gain day. The detective mugs the inn-keeper and takes his costume and joins the festival anonymously, where he finds the young girl being brought out of a cave. Presuming that the girl is about to be sacrificed, the detective reveals his identity and runs to the girl, grabs her hand and has her lead him on a right merry chase around the island. Eventually, she leads him back to the gathered townsfolk, who inform him that the real reason he's on the island is because they plan to sacrifice him to their pagan gods. They inform him that they'd faked the girl's kidnapping to lure him to the island, and that they'd wanted him because they'd figured out that sacrificing a deeply religious virginal authority figure would guarantee them a bumper crop. They then take him up the hill to a giant… you guessed it, wicker man, which is made up of many chambers filled with various animals. He's then forced into the main chamber in the torso, where he's peed on by a goat (off camera) and burned alive. The entire time he's screaming various and assorted things at the townsfolk, sometimes cursing them and other times praying to God and other times making threats and sometimes just screaming. As he burns up the townsfolk sing yet one more weird song, swaying their arms in the breeze the whole time like pre-school kids doing a couple of verses of "Bingo Was His Name-O." Then the end credits roll. You can see the film's perplexing final ten minutes here.

I can't think of a single movie that compares to The Wicker Man. Wendy and I turned to each other with expressions of "What the hell?" more times during this film than any other film we've ever watched together.

As far as plot intricacies go, there were about a million holes. How had the islanders known that they'd end up luring a deeply religious virgin to the island to investigate the missing girl? What if the cop that had come had been a hard drinking, hell-raising Scottish equivalent of Popeye Doyle? How would they have dealt with him on the island, roughing up Scottish pagans and asking them if they'd ever been caught picking their feet in Poughkeepsie? Do you think that kind of cop would have sat idly in his room while Brit Ekland sang naked, pounding on the walls in the next room? A cop like that would have gone next door, nailed the inn-keepers daughter, and then spent the rest of the visit drinking ale and punching pagans.

Come to think of it, that might have been a good movie. Watching Gene Hackman beat the tar out of the drag-queen Christopher Lee would have worked much better. I can just hear myself yelling "Yeah! Kick him again!"

And, by the way, why had they tried so hard to get him to leave the island when he first got there if they'd wanted to lure him there to sacrifice him? What if he'd responded to their insistence that he didn't have the right to be on their private property by saying "Oh? Alright, then. Very well, goodbye!" What then?

The movie doesn't really work as an examination of culture clash, either, since it's impossible to take anything on the island seriously. These people weren't believable as pagans. Morons, yes. Oddballs, sure. Potheads, even… but the idea that there was a soul among them capable of actually planting or tending a field or caring for livestock was laughable. There's just no time to get that kind of work done when you spend every waking moment jumping around naked in the cemetery.

Still, I'm giving The Wicker Man a star and a half for pure originality. I've never seen anything like it… and I hope to never see anything like it again. I'll be skipping Neil LaBute's remake. My gut instinct tells me that if he changes the story very much he'll tick off the original's rag-tag band of hard-core fans. And, if he doesn't change the story radically, he'll tick off everyone else. I'm just not willing to invest an hour and a half finding out.

Trailer For The Film:

DVD Review: Tristram Shandy: A Cock And Bull Story

Existing as sort of a three-way head-on collision between This Is Spinal Tap, American Movie and Adaptation, Michael Winterbottom's Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story is an interesting and often enjoyable farce… although it never quite gets off the ground. It does, however, get a few laughs at the expense of the cast, the crew, the audience and the subject matter, and it's moments of flagrant self-congratulation are excusable. This is, after all, a film based on a novel that, by all accounts, can not be adapted to the screen. Even trying something this audacious is laudable, and for a fairly jaded film fan such as myself, there were a few delightful elements that made it all worth watching.

Here's the central contrivance: Laurence Sterne's comic 1759 novel The Life And Opinions Of Tristram Shandy, Gentlemen isn't so much a novel as it is a stream-of-consciousness meditation and series of run-on jokes about the futility of actually trying to write a novel. I've never actually read it, having assumed that it's probably more futile to read a book about little more than it's own futility than it is to write such a thing. I do know from reviews, however, that the novel begins before the birth of it's main character and, after a series of silly tangents, ends mere moments after his birth, having never gotten around to telling us anything about his life or opinions.

Could a device like that work anywhere other than on the page? Well, what the hell. Director Michael Winterbottom and his stars, Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon were willing to give it a go.

It might be useful for American audiences to know that Steve Coogan is the popular star of a hit BBC comedy and it's spin-offs in which he plays Alan Partridge, a television interviewer who's far more interested in himself than in any of the subjects of his interviews. Rob Brydon may be best known for his work on a BBC skit comedy program called Little Britain. During the course of Tristram Shandy: A Cock And Bull Story, Coogan and Brydon constantly try to upstage one and other, both in character and out. Coogan plays a double lead role, both as Tristram Shandy and as his father Walter. Brydon plays Tristram's uncle and insists that he is really the second lead in the film, considering that he's ever present, either as Uncle Toby or as himself. Confusing? Yes, but not as much as it sounds. The movie makes it obvious when we're seeing actors mocking their characters, mocking exaggerated versions of themselves, or flatly mocking each other. It's easier to follow than you might think, and I have a feeling that the movie makers may be disappointed by that.

The movie tips it's hand along the way, revealing each of it's influences and, at times, paling in comparison. The Spinal Tap comparisons are unavoidable. There is, for instance, a giant model of a womb that Coogan finds himself stuck in. It'll be difficult for any movie fan to watch that scene without remembering Harry Schearer's malfunctioning rock-pod from Spinal Tap. An early scene at make-up features a conversation between Coogan and Brydon that plays like a condensed version of the many back-stage Tap scenes. All that was missing was a deli tray with some small slices of rye bread for the actors to struggle with. Even an elaborate and significant model of a battlefield reminded me of nothing so much as Ian Faith's notorious ten-inch Stonehenge.

Tristram Shandy wasn't quite up to Adaptation's standards, either, although that comparison might simply be unfair. When it comes to brave, original, funny scripts that break all the rules, nobody can compare to Adaptation's writer and primary character, Charlie Kaufman. Adaptation is a movie about the futility of trying to write a screenplay , and it's probably closer to the spirit and style of Tristram Shandy's source material than this movie itself quite gets. Not that I can say that for sure, having never read the novel. What I can say for sure is that Charlie Kaufman's invention of a fictional twin brother in Adaptation served as a far better and more seamless way to blur the line between fiction and pseudo-fact than the devices used here. Tristram Shandy blurs that line simply by having the actors come out of character; by having the camera follow them into their real lives. Or, at least, into the version of their real lives that's been contrived for this film.

And while the comparisons to American Movie are obvious, they're really disingenuous. After all, even though American Movie is one of the funniest movies of all time, it is a real documentary about real moviemakers who really are incompetently trying to make a real movie. The painful laughs in American Movie really are painful. The painful laughs in Tristram Shandy are, when you get right down to it, fraudulent.

So, no, it doesn't work flawlessly. There are, in fact, several long, dry periods without a single laugh. I have to admit, though, that the laughs that do come are big and undeniable. As derivative as the scene involving the giant womb was, it was still damned funny. The exchanges between Coogan and Brydon generally work, too… mostly because the two actors seem to have a real screen chemistry. Smaller roles for Stephen Fry, Gilian Anderson and the luminous Naomie Harris were nice, too. I was especially happy to see Fry show up in the movie. With Fry and Laurie and Blackadder on his resume, he's perhaps the best pedigreed Britcom performer in the whole mix.

Is Tristram Shandy: A Cock And Bull Story worth buying on DVD? Nah. There are a great many better movies at better prices out there to pick from. It's worth a rental, though, on one of those nights when you just can't find anything else to watch. It's different enough and funny enough to justify five bucks and an hour and a half of your time… even if it's laughs are blatantly derivative and even if it's differences are vaguely familiar.