Category Archives: Movies

Fun Stuff I’ll Be Doing Soon

I’ve been trying to come up with some sort of an events calendar/database for stuff like upcoming concerts, talks, CD/DVD releases, etc. that are of particular interest to me. So far I haven’t found a solution I like (so I may just write something on my own), so in the meantime I’ll just do a normal post. (That is why, as you may have noticed, there is an “Events” header on the right with nothing under it.)

I guess I share this stuff since I figure it’s probably of interest to a few more people than just me, plus if it’s something like a concert or whatever maybe more people can join in the fun, yeah?

Month Day Exciting Thing
April 19-23 In the Mood for Love at Central Cinema
April 25 Final Fantasy VII – Advent Children DVD release (sort of a “part two” to the FF7 video game — one of my all-time favorites)
April 26 Ladytron in concert at Neumos (buy tickets)
April 28-29 Coachella in California (I’ll blog about this more as it approaches and after the show)
May 9 Just Like the Fambly Cat by Grandaddy (their last album… sadness…)
May 9 Queer as Folk season 5 (the final season)
May 9 The West Wing season 6
May 11 SIFF 2006 lineup announced
May 11 Goldfrapp at The Showbox (buy tickets)

Also, as for things that have happened recently that are worth looking into: Knots Landing season 1 on DVD, Placebo’s latest album Meds, Ghostface Killah’s Fishscale (believe the hype about this one — it’s the best hip-hop I’ve heard since Kanye West’s first album), Gorillaz’s Demon Days Live in Manchester DVD, and the high school noir (done in a totally serious way) Brick.

2046 and the Oscars

If you aren’t aware of my obsession with the film 2046, well, do a search for “2046” on my blog and you should get an idea of how much I love this movie.

That said, I was sad (though not surprised) that 2046 wasn’t mentioned anywhere when it came time for film award season. I understand that it’s a foreign movie and that it was technically released abroad (in Asia, at least) in 2004, but still, this movie deserved something at the Academy Awards or Golden Globes. (See the awards it did win over at IMDB.)

But what is maybe more saddening to me is that I haven’t read any critics really agreeing with me, that is until I read “Pushing the envelope” by Stephanie Zacharek over at Salon.com.

She mentioned that Tony Leung, Gong Li, and Zhang Zihi all deserved recognition for their work in 2046, and I love her for saying that.

I would probably award 2046 something in every category, but that’s just me.

Triumph Of A Heart

Bjork in Triumph of a Heart
I must admit that ever since Homogenic, I’ve felt that Bjork has gone a bit downhill. I know a lot of people think that Vespertine was her best work, but with songs like “Bachelorette” (one of my all-time fav songs) and “Joga,” how could you go wrong?

I thought that Medulla was a step-up from Vespertine, but her later albums have just felt too cold.

Additionally, her videos have gone even more downhill. The collaborations between her and Michel Gondry (“Human Behavior,” “Army of Me,” “Isobel,” “Hyperballad,” “Joga,” and “Bachelorette”) were true works of art. Even non-Gondry videos like “I Miss You” and “All Is Full of Love” were amazing.

That said, the video for “Triumph of the Heart” from Medulla reassures me that Bjork is an amazing artist.

The video starts out with her in bed with a cat — it appears that they are in a relationship or something. They possibly have a fight or something, and Bjork takes off. She meets up with some friends down at a local bar and ends up getting rather trashed. At one point she goes into the bathroom and the various people of the bar do the strange noises that occur throughout the song. Eventually Bjork stumbles out of the bar and tries to walk home. She passes out on the street, and the cat drives up to bring her home. They make up pretty quickly and Bjork kisses the cat, which causes it to grow Bjork-size. The two of them do a dance (pictured above) and then the song ends.

I love how strange and funny the video is. I mean, most of Bjork’s videos are strange, but this one at least has some sort of “plot” and you feel like you know what’s going on.

Spike Jonze, who I am normally not a huge fan of, directed the video. Him and Bjork had previously collaborated for “It’s Oh So Quiet” (which was critically-acclaimed and all), so they make a good artistic pair, as well.

The Ice Storm

The Ice Storm
I just finished watching Ang Lee‘s The Ice Storm and it reminded me of a lot of other family-oriented dramas — and it especially reminded me of plays from the 1950s.

I know it’s hardly profound, but I really like it in movies/plays/etc. traverse into the negative zone (as the movie calls it, borrowing from The Fantastic Four), where everything is sort of different and after the characters enter, everything changes. In The Ice Storm, about half-way through the movie there is (surprise, surprise) an ice storm during which pretty big events happen.

The setup is pretty common among literature. Like I said, it reminded me of 1950s plays such as “Long Day’s Journey Into Night” and “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” When I studied “Long Day’s Journey Into Night” in college (I wrote a paper titled “Searching for Reality: How Drugs, Self-Deception, and the Influence of Family Help Mary Tyrone Find Her ‘Self’ In ‘Long Day’s Journey Into Night'”), I remember my professor commenting on the fact that a major theme of 1950s American drama was family and drinking.

Ever since then, I’ve noticed that lots of literature includes a structure where somewhere around the middle (or Act II), there is either some sort of natural disaster and/or the characters become very intoxicated, and the truth comes out. More recent examples of this setup include Magnolia (raining frogs), Anniversary Party (ecstasy and a lost dog), and Judy Berlin (eclipse), and Short Cuts (earthquake). Likewise, I’ve noticed the theme in older works of literature. Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer’s Night Dream” comes immediately to mind — once the characters enter the woods, everything changes.

Despite the fact it’s a frequently used trope, I think it works. I think all of us can relate to those strange times or places in life when events compound on top of each other, and then some surreal bigger-than-life phenomenon takes place (or appears to), and for whatever reason, we gain some new insight into life and grow as a person.

Zizek! The Movie!!

Zizek! movie poster
On Friday (Jan. 13th), I got to see the Seattle premier of new documentary Zizek! at the Northwest Film Forum. The film is distributed by Zeitgeist Films, a company I became familiar with because they also distributed the somewhat life-changing The Corporation. I’ve know that they were working on a movie about Slavoj Zizek, my favorite philosopher/theorist, but I wasn’t sure when it was going to be released.

Lucky for me, one of my friends asked if I was going to see Zizek! when it opened at the Northwest Film Forum (I didn’t know about it before she mentioned it), so I was able to make sure I caught the premier. Following last night’s showing, two professors from UW (Henry Staten and Marek Wieczorek) lead a discussion about the film.

The film itself was pretty remarkable, if for no other reason than the fact it gave me the chance to see what Zizek is like in person (as much as a documentary can capture someone “in their essence”). In order to do a more in-depth analysis of the content, I would have to watch the film again (and with subtitles — Zizek talks faster than anyone I know and with a slight accent). To briefly summarize, the film shows Zizek giving some lectures; spouting his ideas on philosophy, politics, and psycho-anal-ysis (as he wrote it — get the Freudian joke about “anal”??); playing with his kid; showing off his kid’s toys; watching, then critiquing, a television special by his mentor Jacques Lacan; and sharing his thoughts about three types of suicide (physical, emotional, and metaphysical).

Other highlights I’ve remembered as I’ve been working on this:

  • He makes a point about the fact that nowadays are worried about the end of the world and that they see capitalism as the final organization of human society. He made a great joke that went something like, “People are more likely to believe that the world will end than they are to believe that capitalism can improve/change.”
  • He thinks the world is chaotic, and that love is the end of the chaotic disaster.
  • He keeps his clothing in drawers and cabinets in his kitchen.
  • He admits that he is narcissistic.

I’m not sure if the film is a good introduction to the philosophical ideas of Zizek. My friend Aurea, who had never been exposed to Zizek before, fell asleep during the movie and was, I think, rather lost. I couldn’t necessarily gauge if others in the audience felt the same way. If I were recommend Zizek! to someone, I would do so under the in order that the person gets a glimpse at the personality of a great philosophical mind — not to get a crash course in Zizek’s theory. While there were some selected quotations from his works (which appeared on the screen for a too short of time — I could tell they faded before people had a chance to digest the quotes) and there were even some cool animations that attempted to visually explain important ideas, the film is a biography more than anything else. Any philosophy that may be absorbed would be by osmosis.

Summary by Prof. Staten

Following the film, Staten started the discussion by asking for a show of hands of people who had read Zizek. I would estimate that only 20% of the people in the audience (of maybe 100 people??) raised their hands. I was quite surprised by this — but I guess, as Staten suggested, there must be “film forum junkies” who trust the Northwest Film Forum’s judgment in movies and went for that reason.

Staten then provided some biographical information about Zizek that the film (strangely) didn’t mention, such as the fact that Zizek was involved in the Slovenian Revolution to overthrow communism. Staten believes that Zizek’s experience with communism profoundly marked his world-view, especially when it comes to believing in an ideology since nobody really believed in the totalitarian communist regime and the ideology that it purported to stand for. Although the country was supposedly communist, nobody really believed that communism was the solution, and they found ways to work around the bureaucracy.

Zizek’s experiences with communism and revolution seem to have had two especially strong lasting impacts:

  1. He is able to see capitalism from an outsider’s standpoint since he didn’t grow up with it.
  2. He actually participated in a revolution and is part of political history (unlike most philosophers who mainly participate in the abstract). This gives him an authority as a commentator that not many contemporary thinkers have.

Zizek’s involvement with the revolution and seeing some of his philosophy in-action makes him feel that most theory has a certain impotence to it and that it isn’t practical and whatnot. Staten feels that these feelings gives Zizek an “agitated, barely controlled mania” and causes him to refuse to be appropriated by the mainstream liberal consensus — he doesn’t want his ideas to be watered down or tamed. He thinks that cultural studies is an academic façade and that it pretends to be doing something against the prevailing ideology, but since it has been appropriated, it probably supports the system that it critiques.

Communism also shaped Zizek’s ideas about (false) utopias, a point he touched on briefly during the film. Zizek said that in a false utopia (such as communism), the situation is so without issue that you need a new space to survive. For Zizek, the only way to create that space is to imagine a way out. Staten believes that this need to imagine a new way out also adds to Zizek’s intense nature and forced urgency.

Zizek’s lived experience, Staten feels, makes him the most authentic thinker on the theory stage.

In addition to that biographical information and how it probably influenced Zizek’s philosophy, Staten briefly explained what he thought was one of Zizek’s more important and controversial (more or less) ideas: the obscene superego injunction to enjoy.

Conventional Freudian psychology about the id, ego, and superego argues that the superego’s function is to tame the id — that is, to control and repress desire. The superego is the “good” influence from society and functions as a conscience.

Zizek, on the other hand, believes that the superego’s real command is not “repress,” but, rather, “enjoy!” The pressure to enjoy ourselves is the true oppression of the superego, not the pressure to repress. Staten used the phrase “repressive desublimation” to describe this situation where the more freedom we think we have (i.e. that we really should enjoy ourselves all the time), the more we feel limited in our choices and oppressed.

I must that when I first came across this idea in Zizek’s The Sublime Object of Ideology (I think?), I found it quite profound. If you think about it, the pressure to be happy and to give in to your desires and actually enjoy yourself is much more intimidating than to simply repress those desires and go on with life. I’m glad that Staten explained this idea more lucidly than the film managed to.

As for Staten’s overall thoughts on the film, he had two comments:

  1. Why didn’t we get any Zizek commentary/reflection on all the toys he bought for his son? What does that say about enjoyment and capitalism?
  2. There was a moment of unprecedented, naked revelation by Zizek when he made a comment about how he feels like he is nothing at the core and that talking all the time gives people an illusion that there is something inside of him.

I’m not sure I found that statement as profound as Staten did (it reminded me, in fact, of something Patrick Bateman says in American Psycho), so I’ll have to think some more on that.

Summary by Prof. Wieczorek

Wieczorek started by commenting that his favorite book by Zizek was The Invisible Remainder (which I cannot find on Amazon).

He also felt that the film showed the fact that Zizek obviously feels the need to do his work, but then withdraws a bit in order to avoid becoming appropriated to too mainstream or too predictable.

He thinks that Zizek is, in a way, playing with the idea of being an analyst. He invents a symptom (for himself, for other things), which is a form of self-representation coupled with evasion.

Wieczorek also explained, more than the film did, about Zizek’s interest in Jacques Lacan‘s triangle of the Real/Imaginary/Symbolic.

He noted that the Real is what cannot be represented with symbolic language and that the Real is invoked through sublime horror.

He also commented on the fact that Zizek once mentioned how he doesn’t like the idea of people expecting him to be “the voice to tell us what is next in theory.” Wieczorek suggested that Zizek is avoiding being the Big Other and becoming wrapped up in a system a la Stalinism or a la bureaucracy.

Finally, Wieczorek noted what he sees to be the “ethical drive” that possesses Zizek and that such a drive probably relates to the Real and that it should be a cause for the left.

Questions/Discussion

What sort of criticism of Zizek exists?
There isn’t much serious critique, mostly because people (i.e. academics) treat Zizek as a clownish genius. They give him nicknames like “the Giant of Ljubljana” and call him an “academic rock star,” which belittles him (“a giant in a land of dwarves? who else is from Ljubljana??”).

There have been some more serious debates (apparently that took place around the turn-of-the-century), involving Zizek, Judith Butler, and Ernesto Laclau. Incidentally, Zizek and Butler are apparently friends (he calls her “Judy” in the film), but the debates (which continued on in journals [Staten could not remember the name of the journal at the time] and stuff) lead to a major calling out between Zizek and Laclau.

Another reason, one of the professors suggested, that there isn’t too much criticism of Zizek is because he is more of a moralist and existential thinker. He doesn’t do very substantive political theory, which leaves less room open for debate. He makes observations more than he tries to prescribe how the world should be.

Does the film represent Zizek as a clown (and thus reinforce the fact that he shouldn’t be taken seriously)?
The person who asked this question made a really keen observation: Zizek lived under a totalitarian system that nobody believed in. Then after the fall of communism, he found himself under capitalism, which everybody believed in. He sees parallels between the two ways of living, which throws him off balance.

As for the answer, Wieczorek seemed to believe that the film did portray Zizek as a clown.

Staten, however, thought that the representation was rather accurate, and that Zizek is somewhat eccentric. He wondered if Zizek behaved in such a way in order to expose the absurdity of the world and systems and whatnot.

Another audience member noted that the depiction of Zizek was very different from the depiction of Jacques Derrida in the movie about Derrida. While Zizek was eccentric and clownish and casual, Derrida commanded the audience’s attention and was very serious.

Staten noted that Zizek’s books are full of jokes and that as a writer, he is rather undisciplined and hard to follow. Some of his writing is crap, but some of it is good. This is a problem that Zizek creates for himself, and the film sort of points this out.

The question made me wonder if people viewing Zizek “from the outside” (i.e. haven’t read his work) might view Zizek! differently than those of us who are more familiar with him. We know he’s clownish and writes with a unique style, but that under all of that, he has some very important stuff going on. Those who haven’t read the book might only be able to see the clownish side of him. Maybe all of this concern about his representation as a “clown” or whatever is a convenient way of not talking about his ideas since they are somewhat radical?

Zizek’s self-representation
One of the main points of self-representation that people seemed to be interested in was the scene where Zizek critiques Lacan’s Psychoanalysis television special. Zizek claims to hate the special because Lacan seems to be too dramatic with his gestures and that everything appears too forced and deliberate.

This lead some people (there seemed to be agreement among lots of people about this — lots of nodding and people chiming in with their own observations) in the audience to wonder if Zizek was being a bit hypocritical since here he was, in a documentary about himself, being pretty dramatic with his talking and gestures.

Staten disagreed with this assessment of the film, and was convinced that Zizek’s gestures were more nervous and compulsive — not thought-out and dramatic, unlike Lacan.

As for Zizek’s critique of Lacan, Staten drew two things from that:

  • Zizek is not impressed with Lacan’s attempt to give importance to himself and his work.
  • Zizek feels the need to show his ability to critique Lacan.

This lead to some discussion of Derrida and how people who follow in Derrida’s footsteps tend to be very uncritical of Derrida’s work. This evidently really pisses Zizek off since people are always calling him a Lacanian and criticizing him for that fact. At one point in the film Zizek gives a rather angry response to an audience member who asks him if he might be following Lacan too closely and whether that limits his philosophy. Zizek vehemently points out that he is able to critique Lacan, unlike the Derrida people who basically worship him.

Zizek! vs. the film about Derrida
The guy who asked this question was, I thought, a bit of a PWM (presumptuous white male) of the academic variety. He pointed out that both the film about Zizek and the (aforementioned) film about Derrida both featured the subject’s name in the title, were made by grad students, were made by Canadians, and that these Canadian grad students were young female (a point which he seemed to be particularly proud of himself for noticing). He wondered if there was anything significant or telling about this.

He also noted that Derrida acted like Lacan did in the (aforementioned) television special on psychoanalysis.

I don’t recall how the professors answered this question (though I am pretty sure they dismissed any significance about personal details of the filmmakers). Basically, I thought the guy just wanted to hear himself do some amateur film criticism or something. Though he missed an important point: Derrida and Lacan share the same first name: Jacques! (sheesh, amateurs!)

“Buffoonery” disarms the audience? Is that a strategy for delivering his message?
Staten noted that living in communism in a totalitarian regime, there were tons and tons of jokes about the system and that those jokes were a way of saying something without really saying it. Thus, Zizek probably uses jokes as a type of cultural defense and that the “buffoonery” of the jokes always has an aspect of political allegory.

If Zizek is to be considered a moralist, how can he call himself a Stalinist? Can anyone connected with Stalin be moral?
I found it humorous that the guy who asked this question apologized for being an Aristotelian since it might make him too tied to the moral argument, or something.

In the film, when confronted with a similar question, Zizek notes that, though he seems to have a certain admiration for Stalin, he himself is indeed very pro-democracy. Further, he has written more about Stalin than pretty much anyone else. Staten reiterates this point, adding that Zizek’s analysis of the show trials in Did Somebody Say Totalitarianism? is quite extraordinary and worth checking out. (Also, he mentioned that Did Somebody Say Totalitarianism? is one of Zizek’s best and most accessible works.)

He also cautioned us to critically wonder, “What does Zizek mean when he says he is a Stalinist?” Does that mean he really, genuinely believes in Stalin’s methods and philosophies, or does he say it for a different reason?

He recalled the scene in the movie where Zizek mentions the fact he doesn’t want to be absorbed into the mainstream, and wondered whether calling himself a Stalinist is a way of remaining dangerous to “moral”-minded thinkers.

Nonetheless, Staten believed this to be a dubious move and that by adopting such an association, Zizek definitely creates a shock factor.

That said, calling himself a Stalinist could also be Zizek’s way of explaining how an internalized Big Other could allow Stalinism to occur, and that maybe Stalinism isn’t unique to Russia or so difficult to occur.

Either way, Zizek is always provoking.

How would reading Zizek’s books differ from seeing Zizek in film?
For the final question, I am almost certain that the professors intended to call on someone sitting about two rows ahead of me (who had his hand up every time the floor opened for questions), but then some guy in the middle went ahead and barged in with his question. To be fair, the guy in the back waited a few seconds, as if he needed to be acknowledged more precisely (aww, what a polite guy!), so he did kind of blow his chance…

As for the similarities between Zizek in film and in writing: What makes him so frenetic and lively is his intelligence. This fact comes across in both mediums.

He produces a lot of thoughts and ideas and is very inventive, but not the most convincing, profound, etc. person. He would rather say something stupid than say nothing at all.

I think it was Wieczorek who said that reading Zizek was a cinematic experience that involved lots of vectors.

Overall Thoughts on the Discussion

I thought it was great to be around other people (even if it was just a slim portion of the audience) who knew who Zizek was and were interested in his work. The two professors from UW were obviously quite knowledgeable about Zizek, and I am glad I got to hear them speak. The discussion after the movie seemed to really focus on the filmmakers’ representation of Zizek as a clown/buffoon/whatever, which I got bored with, but then realized that the discussion probably should have focused on the film, anyway, and not Zizek’s philosophy. For people interested in filmmaking (which is a major focus of the Northwest Film Forum), the study of representation is much more valid and interesting.

You Were The Last High

Dandy Warhols, BJM, and 9 Songs
I remember when The Dandy Warhols‘ song “Not If You Were the Last Junkie On Earth” came out. I was in high school. I remember thinking, “Wow, this is a good song.” But then I saw the video and the song became (relatively) big and I basically wrote-off the band as sell-outs and copycats and the like. I also remember people (who these “people” were I cannot remember — DJs, journalists, whatever?) suggesting that the song was inspired by Kurt Cobain’s drug use. (Does anyone else remember when every alt. rock song was inspired by Cobain’s suicide? I’m thinking of “Mighty K.C.” by the For Squirrels and one or more songs by Imperial Teen.)

After watching Dig! — easily the best music-oriented documentary I’ve ever watched — I am certain that the song was not written about Kurt Cobain, but that it is most likely about Anton Newcombe and/or his band The Brian Jonestown Massacre.

For some stupid reason I opted not to see this movie at SIFF last spring (mostly because I thought I still hated the Dandy Warhols), but now that I’ve seen it on DVD, as I said above, it is an amazing music documentary. I’m not sure how they did it, but the creators of the film basically followed both the Dandy Warhols and the Brian Jonestown Massacre (BJM) from their inception to present day. (Although I guess the film only followed BJM through 1997.) In the beginning, the bands were great friends and inspired each other, but then once the Dandy Warhols sold-out by signing to Capitol Records, BJM decided that the two bands should feud a la the feud between Blur and Oasis. So once the bands break ties with each other, the film follows the divergent paths of the two bands.

The film raises a lot of interesting questions about what it means to be an artist/musician, whether “selling out” is really selling out, how the record industry markets bands, etc. The documentary makes it pretty clear that, for the most part, Anton and BJM are the music geniuses and that the Dandy Warhols, while talented, are basically just another rock band that makes good music and tries to be successful doing so. Toward the end, when I felt like the filmmakers were endorsing that decision, Anton gets another chance to speak and it totally shifts the message.

One of the things that the Dandy Warhols said a few times that really bothered me was that they were a “functional” band and that all of the band members’ parents were still married and that, by 2004 or whenever the film was made, all of the members were married and that the BJM were a bunch of dysfunctional “fourteen year-olds” from broken families living in the ghetto. The whole statement seemed rather arrogant and privileged, but in a way where that privilege wasn’t acknowledged, really, or that the privilege was being taken advantage of by the members of the Dandy Warhols.

Enough about Dig!, though, because I also want to mention two other things:

First, the reason I watched Dig! was because I recently realized that I might actually like the Dandy Warhols. I first downloaded the song “Bohemian Like You” a few months ago when my friend Troy heard it on the Six Feet Under soundtrack and asked me to find out what the song was and download it. I must admit, the song was catchy and I didn’t delete it after I played it for him. Apparently the song was really famous from some television commercial, but I wasn’t aware of that. Then, after watching 9 Songs last weekend and downloading the Dandy Warhols’ song from there, “You Were the Last High,” I figured the band might be cool. I read about Dig! and decided I had to watch it.

Second, 9 Songs was an interesting movie. The reviewers who have called it soft-core porn are not wrong. Although the title is 9 Songs, the songs play a relatively minor part in the film. 9 Songs is about a couple exploring their sexuality and having fun (lots of fun) doing it. Interspersed with the sex are live music performances by groups I love such as Franz Ferdinand and Primal Scream (and, apparently, the Dandy Warhols). I tried to find thematic connections between the music and the sex/state of the couple’s relationship, but the only song that seemed to struck a chord in me was the Dandy Warhols’ “You Were the Last High.” The song is quite melancholy and, as I recall, played during one of the more tender sex moments or during/before/after a fight.

In addition to “You Were the Last High,” I also loved the live performance of “Slow Life” by the Super Furry Animals. As for the non-life music, when the couple plays Franz Ferdinand’s “Michael” in the car it’s totally awesome, and Goldfrapp’s “Horse Tears” comes at a particularly touching moment, as well.

In comparison with other sex-based movies I’ve watched, this is one of the better ones. I think the live music performances really help, as they give the characters another interest besides sex. A common theme seems to be self-destruction/lack of care for the outside world/retreating into a two-person life of sex, and 9 Songs breaks that mold, a little. In the end, however, as can probably be predicted, things don’t work out. But unlike other movies, I really don’t think the sex is what destroys the couple. Nor do I think “destroy” is the right word, in the first place. The romance fizzles out, which, I think, is much more accurate than the dramatic and traumatic endings most erotic movies fall prey to.

Where does this leave us? I think both Dig! and 9 Songs attempt to break the mold of very formulaic film genres. Most band documentaries either follow bands to success or destruction. Dig! shows us both and challenges the typical definitions of “success” and “destruction” when it comes to art. Likewise, 9 Songs takes the typical sex-based erotic “artcore” movie, adds some music, and makes the characters less self-absorbed. In 9 Songs, sex is fun — it’s not some artistic expression or brutal exploration of the soul or something.

Doesn’t She Look a Lot Like…

Julia Roberts in Ocean's 12
I won’t say much about Ocean’s 12, mostly because there isn’t much to say. The film is fun and has a bunch of twists at the end that make you go, “Oooohhh,” but for the most part the film is just a basic action/suspense movie. (Though, to be fair, Steven Soderbergh is a genius filmmaker and the movie has a lot of interesting intertextual moments that make it more intriguing then your basic mainstream blockbuster.)

My favorite part of the movie, and the only part that necessitates a post from me, is the scene where Julia Roberts, playing the character Tess, “plays” Julia Roberts in order to get into an art museum. She runs into Bruce Willis, “playing” Bruce Willis, and ultimately her cover is blown.

I just have to say that the idea of an actor playing a character playing that actor is totally awesome. It’s a perfect example of redoubling and, if you want to get really deep, brings the question of identity into the light. Are we really ourselves or are we ourselves playing an idea of ourselves? It’s a total circular question, and no, Ocean’s 12 doesn’t really address this as much as I suggest, but nonetheless, it’s fun to see Julia Roberts doing something sorta unconventional/artsy.

Gothic Machinist

Christian Bale in The Machinist
(I had started writing this post literally months ago but sorta gave up so this is a super simplified version…)

Ever since taking a “Gothic American Literature” course in college, the idea of the uncanny has been one of my favorite literary themes. The idea comes from Sigmund Freud’s essay “The Uncanny.” The best way I can summarize the idea of the uncanny is: the familiar becomes unfamiliar. For example, you look into a mirror and you don’t immediately recognize it as yourself.

Another one of my favorite literary themes is the physical manifestation of psychological phenomenon. This is nothing unique or special, I realize, but I love it nonetheless for two reasons: I tend to think that a lot of illness is somewhat psychosomatic, or, at the very least, affected by your mental/emotional state (i.e. if you are feeling sad about something, you may be more susceptible to a cold or something like that); and since I view truth as a subjective matter, of course I would believe that a person’s psychological state could somehow manifest itself in their notion of reality.

All that said, I loved that The Machinist combined these two elements.

Without giving too much of the movie away, I’ll just say that understanding the idea of uncanniness and physical manifestations are key to this film. Or, rather, they make it much more rewarding. Christian Bale’s character has a mysterious past which is manifested in paranoia and insomnia (which indirectly results in the extreme thinness that, more than anything, got lots of publicity for the movie).

I liked The Machinist as a psychological study. The twist at the end isn’t much of a twist (or wasn’t for me, at least), but this is one of those movies where the ending matters less than everything that comes before it.

Journeys With George

Alexandra Pelosi and George W. Bush
… Maybe he’s not so bad as we think? … Maybe he really is a nice guy? … I don’t know. All I know is that I’m feeling very confused right now.

I’m not sure exactly how to put this, but after watching the self-reflexively sympathetic Journeys With George, I have been brainwashed/fooled/deceived/whatever into think that President George W. Bush may not be quite as evil as I originally thought he was.

This movie is quite a doozy, if I can say so myself. The creator is Alexandra Pelosi, daughter of House Minority Leader Nancy Pelosi. She is, quite obviously, a hardcore democrat liberal. She is also a news producer with NBC news and, for whatever reason (I mean, really, why would they assign the daughter of a democratic representative to cover the a republican presidential hopeful??) they put her on the George W. Bush beat and had her cover his presidential run, starting with the announcement that he was running for president.

Over the course of the year or so that they spent together, Alexandra and Bush actually became pretty close. The thing is, based on the footage she shot (for her own documentary — not for NBC news), he is a genuinely nice guy. He joked with her a lot, and when the other journalists turned on her (when an informal poll she did of who other journalists covering Bush wanted to win was leaked to the tabloids, thus making them all look foolish and fearful of Bush’s reaction), Bush was the one who was nice and said something about how the other journalists weren’t her real friends anyway.

Throughout the movie, Alexandra and Bush have a really good relationship. He really was a nice, fun guy with her. The cynic in me wants to be like, “Well, he was just trying to be all schmoozey so she would report on him better” or something like that, but, honestly, it really did not appear that way. And trust me — when it comes to Bush, I’m as cynical as they get.

The documentary, however, did have more substance than just Alexandra showing us that Bush is a nice guy:

At one point she is talking to another journalists (one of her friends during the trip — a guy who worked for The Financial Times of London) and he notes how the journalists traveling with Al Gore didn’t like him much and that he wasn’t very friendly (or, at least, nothing compared to Bush), and that those attitudes undoubtedly showed up in their journalism. With Bush, on the other hand, the journalists treated it like a party, and Bush was throwing it. So they only reported on little, superficial things and “weren’t really doing [their] job.”

Alexandra makes other pithy remarks about the whole surrealness of it (my favorite: from a distance, clouds look majestic and strong, but up close they look like whipped cream — a not-so-vague metaphor for Bush himself?), and that is probably what saved me from going insane at the end. She really makes the whole thing self-reflexive and somewhat tongue-in-cheek — like she is also saying to herself, “What the fuck is going on here. I am friends with George W. Bush???”

I recommend the movie with the caveat that if you turn into a Bush-supporter at the end, I hold no responsibility. Serious — you have to be in an open state of mind when you watch this movie and realize that it will leave you confused and feeling betrayed and embarrassed. Good luck!

Just Killed Me

Ichi getting ready to fight Kakihara
Now that I’ve seen Ichi the Killer, I can say that it is my favorite Takashi Miike film. Like my other Miike film reviews (Dead or Alive and Izo, I won’t say too much — mostly because there are so many things happening in the movies that it’s hard to keep track.

For the most part, Ichi is a revenge movie. But more in the vein of Oldboy in that it complicates the “simple” revenge movies we’re used to (plus, like Oldboy there is an element of brainwashing involved). Ichi is conditioned by this guy Jijii to kill people in a pretty gruesome way. In the beginning of the movie he kills the crime boss Anjo, which brings Kakihara into the movie. Although the title of the movie is Ichi the Killer, Kakihara is really the main character.

Kakihara is into torture — seriously into torture. I mean torture like hanging people from hooks and pouring hot cooking oil on them, sticking needles into people’s faces, gnawing the skin off of people’s hands, etc. His methods are so extreme, in fact, that he’s kicked out of the yakuza, which means he has more time to track down his former boss’ killer.

Most of the movie is about Kakihara trying to find out who Ichi is and where to find him. Jijii makes sure that Kakihara is fed lots of false information, so between the two of them, Ichi and Kakihara kill/torture-then-kill a good number of the yakuza gang members (which, I imagine, is Jijii’s ultimate goal — it seems as a kid he witnessed a rape and was unable to save the girl so ever since then he’s had a thing against bullies… also, he plants this memory of the rape into Ichi’s head, so ultimately the rape is also Ichi’s reason for killing bullies — that is, Jijii lives vicariously through Ichi).

There is also the slightly tangential story of one of Kakihara’s thugs, Kaneko, and his son Takeshi. Takeshi is often the victim of bullying, and in the end he sorta becomes the next Ichi. So all around Kaneko’s character there are a bunch of parallels — not just between Takeshi and Ichi, but also between Kaneko and Ichi, Kaneko and a yakuza gang leader, and so on. I actually though that Kaneko’s character was the most interesting and probably the key to the movie.

In the end, there is a climactic-anti-climactic face-off between the two that isn’t as violent as one would expect.

My favorite aspect of the movie was the not-so-subtle sado/masochism theme. Both Ichi and Kakihara were sadists, but in different ways.

Kakihara was a greedy sadist, which made him a bit of a masochist, too — the feelings he got from the S&M behavior were all centered in him. He loved Anjo because Anjo would torture him and make him feel something. Before confronting Ichi, he remarked that he had never felt so anxious but was worried that, ultimately, Ichi would let him down by not causing him enough pain.

Ichi, on the other hand, was a sadist who enjoyed causing pain because he believed that pain made the other person feel good. Right before Ichi kills Karen, she says, “No.” To Ichi, this meant, “You said you don’t want it because you do want it.” It’s the old S&M paradox — to really inflict pain on a masochist, do you withhold pain from them? Or give them what they want? Does “No” mean “no” or “yes”?

I think, like I feel every time I watch a Miike movie, that there is some pretty deep philosophical stuff going on. Unfortunately, I’ve yet to watch any of his films more than once, so I’ve never given myself a chance to wade through it. (The first time I watch, especially since it’s a foreign movie, it’s hard enough following the characters and plot.) Ichi the Killer is definitely worth another viewing.