Summer Cleaning AKA Catching Up on Keeping Tabs

So far summer has been a mixture of busy and lazy and as a result, YCETVB has not been getting the water it deserves. Not only that, I haven't logged all the movies I've been watching over the past few months. The time has come and here they are:

America America - Elia Kazan (8)
Gentleman's Agreement - Elia Kazan (7.5)
Errol Morris' First Person (8.5)
50 Dead Men Walking - Kari Skogland (7)
Cocaine Cowboys II: Hustlin' with the Godmother - Billy Corben (7)
Adventureland - Greg Mottola (8)
Orson Welles - The Other Side of the Wind (6.5)
Crank: High Voltage - Mark Neveldine / Brian Taylor (7.5)
Duplicity - Tony Gilroy (7.5)
Angels and Demons - Ron Howard (7)
Sunshine Cleaning - Christine Jeffs (8)
Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist - Peter Sollett (7.5)
Suburbia - Penelope Spheeris (7)
The Girlfriend Experience - Steven Soderbergh (8)
Che Part 2 - Steven Soderbergh (7)
Schizopolis - Steven Soderbergh (7)
Fitzcarraldo - Werner Herzog (9)
God's Angry Man - Werner Herzog (7)
Blood Simple - Coen Bros. (8)
Marnie - Alfred Hitchcock (8.5)
Le Trou - Jacques Becker (7.5)
Eureka - Nicolas Roeg (6.5)
Freakstars 3000 - Christoph Schlingensief (8)
32 Short Films About Glenn Gould - François Girard (7.5)
Up the Yangtze - Yung Chang (8.5)
The International - Tom Tykwer (7)
Crazy Rulers of the World - Jon Ronson (8)
Repo Man - Alex Cox (8)
The Street Fighter - Shigehiro Ozawa (9)
Anvil! The Story of Anvil - Sacha Gervasi (8)
The Brood - David Cronenberg (7)
Shivers - David Cronenberg (6.5)
Videodrome - David Cronenberg (8)
Dead Ringers - David Cronenberg (7)
The Dead Zone - David Cronenberg (8)
Grey Gardens - The Maysles Bros. (8)
Grey Gardens - Michael Sucsy (7.5)
The Hill - Sidney Lumet (8)
The Garment Jungle - Vincent Sherman (8)
Gravy Train AKA The Dion Bros - Jack Starrett (7.5)
Tyson - James Toback (7)
Point Blank - John Boorman (7.5)
The Decline of Western Civilization - Penelope Spheeris (7.5)
Zardoz - John Boorman (8)
Straight Time - Ulu Grosbard (7)
Protagonist - Jessica Yu (7)
Ricky Gervais: New Hero of Comedy (7)
Laughing with Hitler - Rudolph Herzog (7.5)
Carts Of Darkness - Murray Siple (6.5)
Slaves to Superstition - Richard Dawkins (7.5)
The History Of Opiates (7.5)
Al Capone and The Untouchables The True Story (7)
Haunting in Connecticut - Peter Cornwell (4)
Dogs in Space - Richard Lowenstein (5)

Michael Bay's Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen

Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen might be one of the most empty epics ever made. What strikes me as odd when writing the previous sentence is that an infantile movie such as T:RotF is epic. This horribly obnoxious, offensive and bloated bag of CG excess was perfectly reviewed by Roger Ebert, sparing me the effort to write my own review. Call me nostalgic, but I remember a time when the only movies to ever go beyond the two hour mark were historical epics, films boasting gravitas and profound intelligence. Those days are gone. Today, mega-budget monster/robot movies (the type of films that were once called B-movies) dwarf big studios' slates, swallowing up all of the their money and thus preventing dozens of worthwhile films from ever seeing the light of day. As of today, Americans have spent $339 million to see what is probably the worst reviewed film of the year. Are we really that stupid? Is this the fate we deserve? Apparently. For the rest of us, T:RotF makes a convincing case for illegally pirating movies.

Todd Phillip's The Hangover

I was hopeful the elephantine life cycle of the Apatow monopoly had expired and, without even checking the credits, I wrongly assumed The Hangover was (yet another) Apatow death rattle. Considering every other "guy" comedy to come out over the last three or four years was an Apatow movie, it was an easy mistake to make. But yeah, I'm a presumptuous idiot; I was wrong and I'm glad I was. The Hangover is not only a f'n great comedy, it's a pretty good movie too.What rockets The Hangover past time eviscerators like Pineapple Express is the strength of its carefully structured screenplay. Movies scrambling the order of events are nothing new, but by starting backwards and retracing the steps of a blackout evening, The Hangover gives you something you don't expect from a fart gag guy pic: suspense. Instead of being buoyed by recycled frat boy humor (which is definitely present), the structure plunks you in the passenger's seat alongside the familiar jackasses we've all been on drunken road trips to hell with. What they know, you know and what they don't know (damn near everything that happened the night before), you don't know.The Hangover's casting is spot on and despite a heavy dose of familiar archetypes, damn near everything present works effortlessly. This isn't high art and character development, arcs and profundity are absent, but for a raunchy, laugh filled, entertaining summer blockbuster comedy, The Hangover delivers.

Stanley Kubrick's Eyes Wide Shut: Every Frame In the Right Place

Perfection is an elusive creature. Perhaps no one knows this more than the late, great Stanley Kubrick. Kubrick, possibly the greatest filmmaker since Orson Welles, was an obsessive eccentric with the mind of a scientist, one of few directors with a clinical approach to filmmaking. Kubrick's last film, Eyes Wide Shut, is a testament not only to how Kubrick made films, but more interestingly, about how he perceived mankind.Like a National Geographic Biologist documenting the cutthroat behavior of a pack of hyenas, Kubrick dwells on the human species, showing hideously flawed beings doomed to play out a pathetic charade marked by ritual, code, and facade. His final film (and perhaps his most profound), EWS condemns humankind to the world of the superficial, where language is an empty form of communication, where the banal exchanges of pleasantries between people are wooden, and everyone is hidden behind masks, both literal and invisibly quotidien. What's hidden beneath the surface -the subtextual layers masking who we really are and what we really want- is the central theme in EWS, and what's ultimately revealed is how the carefully constructed artifice of our lives can fall apart in the blink of an eye.The 'mask' is EWS's most literal and dominant metaphor, but one that perfectly illustrates who we really are: not what we seem. Dr. Bill's house of cards is defined by his job, his title, his status and his family. When Bill's wife Alice pulls out one his cards, the entire house topples to the floor. Despite Bill's wasted efforts to prove who he is is by presenting his doctor's license to everyone he meets, Bill isn't the learned man he wants everyone to recognize him as, in fact, he is basically a little boy defined by his sexual curiosity and naivete.Every single interaction Bill has in EWS is wrought with sexual reference, innuendo or, in many instances, is overtly sexual. Even strange men Bill encounters manage to sexualize their meeting, whether it be a group of homophobic (possibly closeted) frat boys who taunt Bill about being a fag, or the the obviously gay hotel clerk played by the obviously gay Alan Cumming. These two encounters reveal that even when men interact with other men, sex is always present. In the end, sex is what defines Bill, since Bill is a man and every man is -at the core of his genetic makeup- a walking erection.With EWS as his final statement, Kubrick concludes humans are a wild beast whose true nature is tempered by myriad masks. Despite Herculean efforts, our fate is unavoidable, our behavior merely superficial deviations from what's hard wired into our DNA. In the end, our genetic code barks primal directives we're doomed to march to and even though Kubrick may have been one of us, he sure as hell wasn't buying into our bullshit.*** Note: EWS is an incredibly dense film, with every frame open to scrutiny and offering clues to the many different themes Kubrick was busy addressing. Make no mistake, my words merely scratch the surface and touch on very few themes within this incredibly layered and complex film. Like all great art, EWS improves with each look and is open to multiple interpretations. In time, I believe Kubrick's last film will be regarded as his best.

Robinson Devor's Zoo: Wild Sex

The subject in Robinson Devor's Zoo is sure to appall a certain demographic, but let's be real, who really gives a shit what the judgmental / pious amongst us really think. In attempt to police our morality, these particular folks yell loud enough on a regular enough basis that the time has come to simply stop listening.

Intolerance aside, Zoo is - to put it bluntly - a documentary about a guy who was fucked to death by a horse. But what Zoo is about is far less interesting than what Zoo is trying to accomplish. Devor wants us to try to understand Zoophilia; he wants us to walk a mile in the shoes of people with a very bizarre sexual fetish. On this level, Zoo succeeds and does so in such a way you may want to get fucked by a horse yourself. I'm kidding, of course, but regardless of how much bestiality creeps you out, Zoo should at least give you an ounce of fresh perspective.

Had Errol Morris not already patented this particular style of docu-drama / recreation, Devor would be given full points for retelling a true story in a very imaginative and cinematic manner. But Morris' style is well established and Zoo's wall-to-wall minimalist and moody soundtrack (with Paul Matthew Moore doing the work of Philip Glass) and hyper-stylized, noir-ish, over cranked shots lavishly composed by Cinematographer Sean Kirby, diminish the originality of Zoo's creative aspects. There's no debate the subsequent dreaminess of Zoo is captivating, but it's hard not to be bothered by the director's employ of a style that's unmistakably Errol Morris.

Despite this shortcoming, Zoo plays out like a convoluted murder mystery, ambiguous and absorbing as each layer of the onion is delicately peeled away. The story is provocative and Zoo empowers itself by illuminating a subterranean and deeply misunderstood topic. At the end of the day, I may not want to have sex with animals but I can't help but wonder why killing animals is so widely accepted, but why 'loving' one in this particular way is so widely condemned.

Roger Corman's The Intruder - Beam Me Up, Scotty!

We took off the month of May, but we're back and kicking off June with Roger Corman's unheralded classic, The Intruder.

Corman ventured into serious filmmaking with The Intruder, a timely attempt to reveal the inherent ugliness of racism, which, typical of any Corman film, cashes in on an abundance of exploitation and button-pushing. While racism has remained relevant in the USA, times have changed enough since the early 60s to make The Intruder feel dated. But because racism has evolved into a (what I consider equally ugly) politically correct veil, The Intruder still manages to retain some of its bite. Since today's racism has retreated to the closet, The Intruder's unabashed use of the "N" word delivers a powerful effect that feels like a mule kick to the teeth. With openly public venom now being directed at the Gay community, it's not hard to draw a parallel with the today's hatred of gays to yesteryear's hated of blacks.

As a result of this parallel, The Intruder takes on a new context, one that's the same as the old context: bigotry is an ugly beast. Charles Beaumont's screenplay (adapted from his book) does an excellent job exploring the psychological roots that motivate a bigot, one that branches out from a seed of cowardice. William Shatner delivers what has to be the best performance of his career as the damaged and pathetic racist Adam Cramer. This is definitely not Captain Kirk and Shatner's stop-start delivery is noticeably absent.

Even though The Intruder is quite on-the-nose about delivering its message, it is elevated beyond its simplistic nature by Corman's expertise. There's little doubt The Intruder is one of Corman's finest films, since it entertains, shocks and illuminates audiences in one, well executed stroke. Ironically, The Intruder was the biggest box-office loser of Corman's long career, proving audiences weren't interested in the social/political side of Corman's talents. It makes you wonder...what would Corman have gone on to do had this film been a breakout success?

We All Play a Part: Ruben Östlund's Involuntary (De ofrivilliga)

Involuntary (De ofrivilliga) is a brilliant and innovative film. In many ways it feels quite ordinary and often detached, as a great majority of the time we don't see the characters doing the talking. We see legs, the backs of heads, or we see the action from angles where we can't necessarily understand what's happening. In many instances the point of view feels clinical and unmoving, almost surveillance-like, or as if we're getting snippets from stationary camera home movies. Instead of being gimmicky, these obfuscations are handled with precision and expertise. Subtly these techniques always add something to the film and instead of being off putting, they keep us engaged in a deeper way. The film constantly keeps us guessing, and pulling us in.

The five separate stories follow one day, or less, in the lives of: a family celebrating a birthday together, two prototypical bubbleheaded teens getting into trouble, an elementary school teacher trying to do good, a group of men out for a weekend in the country who have a somewhat atypical bond, and a passenger bus en route to who knows where until a broken curtain rod stops the trip.

We don't necessarily become overwhelmed with character, or form, or anything initially in the film. This isn't a film with a plot per se, it's more a series of vignettes. The little moments we're shown don't seem build much character or event, but it is a deceptive process. Ostlund, instead of giving us characters, gives us something closer to character studies, where we become more involved in the behaviours of the characters than with their motivations toward some goal. This isn't to say that we aren't concerned with the characters, because there are many moving moments, it's just that the feelings we have for them are much more human and down to earth.

Ultimately, when the film really takes shape, all the disparate parts begin to have greater and greater impact, in their own little slice of the film, and in the world of the entire film itself. We begin to see the core that is at heart of the film. The effect on the viewer is one of culpability, and in a sense it reveals the weakness of our own assumptions. The film baits us with constant questions and dilemmas, some that resolve into a kind of human muck, where, really, we're much less amazing than we think we are. It's the kind of film that keeps one asking: "What would I do in that situation?" Often times it reveals many ugly and stupid choices that any of us make but wish not to acknowledge. Ostlund isn't preaching to us, though, for there is enough complexity and humour in the film to let us know, well, we're all fallible humans after all.

The last scene on the bus, with the only notable Swedish actor, Maria Lundqvist (playing herself), is absolutely priceless. A near perfect film. I can't recommend it highly enough.