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¡Tintorera! (1977)
If there's a better movie out there, anywhere, I'd like to see it.
Just when you thought it was safe to be a hunky, bisexual tourist... Before I saw this movie, I had rickets and a large, swollen, distended belly. Now, I do not. Coincidence? Perhaps. But anyway, I like this movie lots. It has given me a reason to live. Thank you, Tintorera. Whenever the wind whistles through the trees, whenever a dorsal fin breaks the surface of my swimming pool, whenever I feel like putting myself out of my misery with a rusty object or a swift, precipitous drop from the top of my house, I will hear your name in a bad Italian accent.
" Ay! Tintorera!"
THE PRECEEDING POST IS A WORK OF FICTION. (AUTHOR: MARGARET ATWOOD)
The Others (2001)
Superior thriller
The Others is not a great horror film, but it's an effective thriller, and as a showcase for the ever-evolving talents of Nicole Kidman, it's pretty near perfect. All this film lacks are one or two genuinely frightening moments -- there are plenty of little shivers, but nothing that puts it into Shining or Exorcist territory as far as terror goes. The script is a marvel of narrative ingenuity, though -- it's amazing that Amenebar gets away with as much as he does given the cynical, questioning nature of most horror fans -- and the photography, which deserved at least an Oscar nomination, is so stunning that it makes even the lulls diverting. Probably the best film of its kind since "Jacob's Ladder" -- a pyschological thriller with meaningful themes and a satisfying, unforseen resolution that, rather than simply pulling out the rug from under us, imposes logic, and, yes, significance what came before. All this Meaningful Stuff, and it's also just an entertaining ghost story,like the kind they used to make in black-and-white out of great little short stories.
Call it *** 1/2.
Mulholland Dr. (2001)
The best film of 2001, and one of the decade's finest.
a good friend of mine -- a person with good taste who I harbour no ill will towards -- hated this movie, despite her obvious involvement in its story, because she said "there's no need to present information like that." on the contrary, sometimes there is a need to tell stories in an original manner, without a point A to B to C progression, and when a director can manage that as skillfully as David Lynch does with Mullholland Drive, a viewer should feel obligated to go with it. understandably, this is not everyone's cup of tea, but I believe certain things to be true, nonetheless.
1) the film is not boring. even those who have hated it have cited its engrossing construction and technique. their quibbles are with its meanings and resolutions. more on that later.
2) David Lynch is an intelligent, distinctive director. Love him or hate him, he's undeniably an original. Fans will enjoy his work because his name is attached to it. Haters will condemn it for reasons of same. He's an auteur. He's a brand name. He's a filmmaker of repute, an award-winner, and a Hollywood self-starter free from the reins of studio interference. he's not just some guy putting his fantasies onscreen, an important disctinction.
3) The film adds up. Maybe not on a first viewing. Maybe not to the degree of more narratively simplistic, plot-driven movies. Not even in the way that ostensibly "alternative" films like Memento or Fight Club "add up" -- with enough clear exposition to connect the dots for the viewer. There's nothing wrong with that kind of surprise wrap-up: that's just not Lynch's path here. Those who pay close attention may be the most frustrated; those who guess the meaning halfway through as a joke may be correct. But there is logic. It is not a random assemblage of memorable vignettes, although it does work that way, too. It's a tightly constructed, evocative work, and it can be figured out. It begs to be figured out, actually.
This last fact is the one in greatest debate. Some posters have already unravelled the film's plot and meaning -- good summaries, actually, and exactly what I arrived at after multiple viewings -- but that's not the measure of this film. As far as I'm concerned, it could make zero sense and still warrant praise based simply on its brilliantly atmospheric direction, the quality of its performances, the chill generated by its score or the nasty humour that unerlies even its most surreal moments. It would be a classic just for the way the camera prowls around corners and creates an expectation of real horror, just for Naomi Watts' audition scene, just for the performance of "Crying" by the Spanish nightclub singer.The other ten best films of 2001 put together fall short of the combined impact of these few moments, even if you think they make no sense. But to me, it does make sense, and not, as some negative writers have suggested in their messages, because I want it to. (I'm pretty sure I speak for the film's fans in explaining that difference.) I didn't put it together until the third time, and the four times I've watched it since only confirm my reading. I'm happy with it, I like it, and I really don't think that makes me a simpering art film snob or a condescending Lynchophile. I was entertained by a movie and wanted to keep watching it. Good for me, I guess, and good for the movie in question. It's no one person's place to hold the comments of others in contempt. The negative posts about this film are accurate to those who made them. I wish they'd enjoyed the film like I did, but they didn't...too bad. I hope they liked something else, but I'm not wrong, either. To me, Mullholland Drive is a movie that is definitely not like leaving the TV on: it challenges, frustrates and ultimately rewards. It's also so, so entertaining, so lush and sensual, so perfectly pitched in its film noir references, so funny, so original, so damned good, so Lynchian.
OK fine, I'll give a little hint as to what I think is going on, but only for people who've watched it, thought about it, and need a little push in the right direction. *** SPOILER *** Coco reallly IS Adam's mom. Which means the party at the end(?) really is happening, and everyone there is who they say they are at that point, including Diane, Camilla, Adam, and even the Cowboy. Then remember the second shot of the film (Diane's pillow in close-up) and the Cowboy's line after Rita/Camilla opens the blue box: "time to wake up now, pretty girl." Then pull a structural switch and place all that came before after that point. ****
Pretty cool, huh?
O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000)
"That's a mighty fine a'pickin and a singin..."
To steal a line from Roger Ebert's review of E.T., this latest offering from the Coen brothers simply made my heart glad. It has a bigness of heart and a generosity of spirit missing in many of their other equally accomplished, technically brilliant films, and while I cannot in good consience deem it better than either Fargo or The Big Lebowski, it is at least their equal.(It's also the most purely enjoyable Coen film ever.) Starting with Roger Deakins' photography, the film is exceptionally well-produced: it has a magical, sepia-toned atmosphere that does not so much re-create the Dustbowl of the 30's as channel it directly onto the screen. The soundtrack -- one of 2000's best selling cds -- is revelatory: bluegrass music simply rocks. The performances are all pitched towards greatness, with George Clooney at the forefront: based on this film, he's a marvellous, risk-taking comic actor who can downplay his own movie-star looks and appear foolish. The script is brimming with dumb-witty dialogue and hilarious narrative contrivances, and the references to the Odyssey are fun and agreably unpretentious. The film meanders along for the first half hour, giving off a relaxed, charming vibe: it is only when the convicts meet Tommy Johnson and record their hit song that it really starts to take off. The first "ending," a town-hall sing-along presided over by the great Charles Durning, was the most ectatically happy moment committed to celluloid last year. There are so many people who did some of their best work here: Coen regulars John Turturro and John Goodman; the demented Tim Blake Nelson; the film's fictional editor, Roderick Jaynes ); soundtrack producer T-Bone Burnett; and, of course, Joel and Ethan Coen, who prove that sometimes, being two of the country's leading and most visionary filmmakers need not involve grand artistic statements. Sometimes, it can just be a lot of fun. **** out of ****
O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000)
"That's a mighty fine a'pickin and a singin..."
To steal a line from Roger Ebert's review of E.T., this latest offering from the Coen brothers simply made my heart glad. It has a bigness of heart and a generosity of spirit missing in many of their other equally accomplished, technically brilliant films, and while I cannot in good consience deem it better than either Fargo or The Big Lebowski, it is at least their equal.(It's also the most purely enjoyable Coen film ever.) Starting with Roger Deakins' photography, the film is exceptionally well-produced: it has a magical, sepia-toned atmosphere that does not so much re-create the Dustbowl of the 30's as channel it directly onto the screen. The soundtrack -- one of 2000's best selling cds -- is revelatory: bluegrass music simply rocks. The performances are all pitched towards greatness, with George Clooney at the forefront: based on this film, he's a marvellous, risk-taking comic actor who can downplay his own movie-star looks and appear foolish. The script is brimming with dumb-witty dialogue and hilarious narrative contrivances, and the references to the Odyssey are fun and agreably unpretentious. The film meanders along for the first half hour, giving off a relaxed, charming vibe: it is only when the convicts meet Tommy Johnson and record their hit song that it really starts to take off. The first "ending," a town-hall sing-along presided over by the great Charles Durning, was the most ectatically happy moment committed to celluloid last year. There are so many people who did some of their best work here: Coen regulars John Turturro and John Goodman; the demented Tim Blake Nelson; the film's fictional editor, Roderick Jaynes ); soundtrack producer T-Bone Burnett; and, of course, Joel and Ethan Coen, who prove that sometimes, being two of the country's leading and most visionary filmmakers need not involve grand artistic statements. Sometimes, it can just be a lot of fun. **** out of ****
The Faculty (1998)
Eminently rentable.
Any movie where Jon Stewart is stabbed in the eye with a vial containing hallucinogens -- and then subsequently melts into a puddle of white goo -- has got something going for it. The Faculty happens to have this and more, with the "more" including a sharp young cast, a semi-clever script by Kevin Williamson, and an array of well-deployed special effects. Thankfully,the film understands that it is a pastiche of earlier, better movies like "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" and "The Thing," so it spends its time wisely, moving the narrative along quickly and referencing its predecessors whenever possible. The camp value of the supporting cast (Salma Hayek, Robert Patrick, and the great Piper Laure) is considerable, and there are some great deadpan moments, as when the identity of the evil alien leader is finally revealed. Robert Rodriguez is a good and intelligent filmmaker, and while it's likely that the audience for this film won't appreciate some of the nuances, it's silly and insubstantial enough that most anyone will like it. Not scary by any means, but useful as a jumping-off point for younger horror fans and probably the last decent script Kevin Williamson will pen post-"Scream." I don't usually do number ratings, but I'm thinking 7.5.
Future War (1997)
This movie cured my rickets.
True story... Before I watched "Future War," I was a sickly wasterel, languishing away in my hammock, my joints ravished by rickets. Then, I watched "Future War," with its puppy-sized dinosaurs, perilous disappearing shirts, cavernous warehouse sets (with stacks of empty cardboard boxes) and a brilliant, small-faced performance from Robert D'Zar, and suddenly, I was cured! So, you can keep your "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon," and "Memento,": if I want excitement -- and uncanny healing powers -- I'll take this brilliant film. It changed me life, and it can change yours. Take the Future War plunge!
Manos: The Hands of Fate (1966)
"It'll be dark soon!"
Torgo really made an impact on me in this film: every night, visions of his grossly deformed knees haunt my dreams. i put this film on the short list of the five scariest things i have ever seen. Torgo's death scene was positively terrifying...those women mussed his hair but good. And the final shot of the painting! My skin is still crawling, although that might be because I haven't eaten in weeks. I cried when the dog died, but then the dad said there never was a dog, so I was ok again. And I love the soundtrack: forget "O Brother..." and buy "Manos: music from and inspired by the movie."
Torgo, if you're reading this, I feel bad for what they did to you. All you did was look after the place while the master was away.
Rushmore (1998)
A must for fans of original films.
Rushmore is not like any other movie I can think of, and that is the highest compliment I can pay it. Even if it were not a clever, observant comedy with excellent performances anda sly, understated visual style, I would like it for being about something different. That it is all of the things mentioned only compels me to praise it further. On the basis of this film, Wes Anderson is in the front ranks of American directors, Jason Schwartzman is a star in need of a follow-up role, and Bill Murray has finally grown up enough to be considered a major actor. The details and nuances in this film convince me that writers Anderson and Owen Wilson are acquainted with a real-life Max Fischer of some sort, or perhaps were him themselves. This notion puts a smile on my face, because I know some Max Fischers too. And I love them, and so does this movie, which is a comedy about a kid who is almost talented enough to forget he's an underdog. His slow self-discovery and the monumental effect it has on others drives this beautiful film, which is sometimes hysterically funny and sometimes painfully somber, and never less than totally compelling.
Eyes Wide Shut (1999)
Let the re-evaluation begin.
Trampled upon its initial release by audiences and critics alike, Stanley Kubrick's elegant and haunting final film Eyes Wide Shut will inevitably be rediscovered by a new generation of filmgoers and elevated to classic status. It's happened with almost all of Kubrick's other films, from Paths of Glory, to 2001: A Space Odyssey to A Clockwork Orange. And yes, I AM putting Eyes Wide Shut in their esteemed company, because, in terms of pure construction and stylistic invention, it is one of Kubrick's best films. I do not pretend to grasp every thematic nuance that Kubrick intended, --indeed, some seem as oblique and impenetrable as the man himself -- but there IS value to this film's method; it's an almost totally subjective movie, personalized to its characters moods and emotions rather then the audience's. Understandably, some were put off by this method, but patient viewers will be rewarded. I think too much has been made of the the film's "was-it-all-dream" ambiguity: Eyes Wide Shut total absurdist fantasy, but it also contains a great deal of emotional truth. The scene at the end of the film where Kidman and Cruise sit in their living room, seemingly after discussing a divorce, is one of the most realistic depictions of familial conflict I have ever seen. By turns, I found it to be very moving and very scary, and the so-called "artiness" of several scenes was for me a logical extension of the film's --consistent -- atmosphere. And, even if it is somewhat exaggerated in its presentation, SO WHAT? It's a Kubrick movie, so of course it will be stylized. And on that count, it's an unqualified triumph: there are colours and images here that will haunt you for days. (My favourite is the wall of golden lights at the party in the opening scene that reappears on a store front later on.) The orgy scene is unforgettable in the way that docking of the shuttle is in 2001: it's a purely original vision that defies our mos confident expectations. I also happen to love the score of this film, and I think that the performances -- particularly Tom Cruise, who did as good a job with his cipher of a character as anybody could have -- are perfectly attuned to the material. Is it a misogynistic film? Yes it is, to the extent that it comments on misogyny rather than practicing it. Remember that the orgy sequence is perceived subjective;y by Cruise, and not by us: the horror of the sex and the treatment of the women are constructions of his own biases and insecurities. And, on those terms, Eyes Wide Shut is not only not misogynistic, but bravely revealing of certain male attitudes towards sex. I do not find this to be an erotic or sexually exciting film, but I do think its observations and implications are very interesting. Kubrick aestheticizes sex so rigidly that it almost becomes comic...and, in many ways, Eyes Wide Shut is a very strange comedy. (Tom Cruise not getting laid in a film full of illicit sex? Get a few rewrites and hire Rob Reiner to direct, and you've got a holiday hit.) I have seen Eyes Wide Shut only a handful of times, but I have no doubt I will come back to it at least once a year. It's a richly textured, thought-provoking film that was unfairly bullied by American critics, who somehow were able to convince themselves that derivative and inferior films like American Beauty and Magnolia were enmblematic of filmmaking in 1999. Eyes Wide Shut was the best film of that year and hasn't really been matched since. I guarantee that it will soon be accorded the status it deserves, and not out of sympathy for the late Mr. Kubrick: he'll just be given his due.
The Trigger Effect (1996)
Reading about Manos reminded me of...
This morning, as I perused the IMDB bottom 100, I realized that my own personal worst movie ever wasn't there...The Trigger Effect. Now, in retrospect, this was a harsh assessment to make as a teenager, but I still haven't seen anything else -- and this is after YEARS of MST3K -- that has compared to this. A Rod Serling premise delivered with Ed Wood execution -- this was an absolutely pitiful waste of celluloid and a couple of generally decent actors. The Trigger Effect is boring and lame, feeble and implausible, derivative and lousy. It doesn't even qualify in the "so good, it's bad genre"... it's just bad, which is why I rank it below about a hundred other old sci-fi or spy films that at least aspired to a lower standard. The Trigger Effect aims to be a thought-provoking thriller and isn't anything close. Has anyone else noticed that David Koepp (who wrote and directed this, in addition to penning bad scripts for The Lost World and Snake Eyes, to name just two) is the worst well-paid screenwriter in Hollywood?
Traffic (2000)
Stalled "Traffic"
Traffic is not a bad film by any means, but its sharp dialogue and solid performances are undermined by weak storytelling on the part of director Steven Soderbergh. The film is structured as a mosaic, interweaving five separate plotlines into an epic tale of the drug trade in America. A good idea, certainly, and Soderbergh, whose unique directorial style has created strong films (Sex, Lies and Videotape, The Limey) and propped up bad ones (Out of Sight, Erin Brockovich,) is certainly a good choice to shoot it. The problem is that for all the detail and craftsmanship that went into the production, the story suffers from some glaring inconsistencies, and the breakneck momentum of the early scenes slows towards the end before stalling completely with an unecessarily pat series of conclusions. The Good: Benicio Del Toro is likely to receive an Oscar nomination for his work as a conflicted Mexican police officer playing both sides of the drug conflict, and good for him; it's a brilliantly controlled and empathetic performance, blending the streetwise cool of his earlier roles with a new maturity and tenderness. There are also excellent supporting turns by Don Cheadle and Luis Guzman as a pair of DEA agents busting a well-connected trafficker (Miguel Ferrer), and Michael Douglas does what he can with his broadly written role as the U.S. government's newly appointed drug Czar. Some sequences crackle with energy, especially an early drug bust involving Cheadle and Guzman, and the varied cinematography and smart editing keep things humming along for the first stretch. There are also some truly great lines, most of which go to Cheadle and Guzman, who make light of their situation even as it threatens to take their lives. The Bad: Catherine Zeta-Jones falls flat in a role that seems assembled out of other actresses' performances, most notably Diane Ketaon in the Godfather, and Lorraine Bracco in Goodfellas. Dennis Quaid is listless as the consligerie to a San Diego drug empire, and the entire plotline involving Douglas and his daughter is predictable. The film also builds steadily to a series of payoffs that disappoint, and there are some lapses in plot logic that are unforgivable. It would be a stretch to say that Traffic is boring, but it certainly drags. The Bottom Line: Star ratings are subjective, but this is certainly not a **** film. *** sounds about right for the quality of the filmmaking and some of the performances, but for the amount of press the film has received, it must be considered a disappointment.
Unbreakable (2000)
A better film then The Sixth Sense
Watching this film for a second time, I became convinced of something I had suspected in the first place: ten years from now, when passablr but unremarkable films like Gladiator, Erin Brockovich and Cast Away have faded from memory, Unbreakable will still have a strong following. While it would be a stretch to say that Unbreakable is one of the very best films of 2000, it certainly deserves props for its immaculate craft, as well as for the intensity of its performances. I think, in many ways, this is a better film then the Sixth Sense, if only because its story is not so transparently constructed to provide a payoff. I liked the Sixth Sense a lot, but the twist was easy to predict because SOMETHING had to happen, or else the movie was just a how-to guide for aspiring spirit mediums. If the ending hadn't turned out as it did, there would have been no point to what came before. Unbreakable also has a big twist towards the end, but it doesn't just justify the film: it enhances its scope. Granted, Unbreakable must be taken with a grain of salt: it's a comic-book fantasy, and its real-life trappings have confused some viewers as to that fact. The point is not that Shyamalan means Unbreakable to be realistic: he just observes the action realistically to set the comic book elements in an interesting new context. Everything about the movie has been constructed to echo the plotting and character development of an "origins" issue of a comic book, and on that count, the film is a total success. Bruce Willis has become a great and self-effacing actor as of late, and that's not a misprint. I felt he was robbed of an Oscar nomination for the Sixth Sense -- if only because his performance was more central to that film's mystery than Osment's -- and I might nominate him again this year if given the choice. He's an interesting choice for the heroo, but ultimately he's the right one: he's low-key but not at all wimpy or ineffectual. And Samuel L. Jackson is excellent in support: this is an unusually low-pitched performance for him, but he makes it work. Their rapport is phenomenal, and it drives the film. There have been complaints about the plausbility of the action scenes, and about the slowness of the pacing. I find that Unbreakable moves slowly, but that it's a build, and not a drag. I found the major action sequence at the end of the film terrifying and beautifully controlled: it expertly pressed the audience's buttons without smacking them over the head.
Yes, some of the details are muddled, but in the best anything-can-be-explained-away comic book tradition. As for the ending, it IS abrupt, but it has a great "To Be Continued" feeling that has me longing for sequels. About the only point that EVERYONE can agree on is that this is a great-looking and sounding film: everyone somewhat pithily recognizes Shyamalan is a technically proficient filmmaker. He has a command of the camera that is thrilling, and the editing rhythms are just beautiful. There's no need to hold this against him: he's young, he's successful, and he's definitely talented. His movie is a good one, and bodes well for the future.
Requiem for a Dream (2000)
Oh please...
I've read a lot of reviews of this movie that cite it as"powerful," "visionary" and "unforgettable." Several critics -- including many of the people who post to this site -- have gone so far as to call it the "best movie they have ever seen." To them, I say -- as nicely as I can-- Oh please... On the basis of Pi, I will readily say that Darren Aronofsky is talented, but this movie is nothing that a half-dozen film school wannabes I hang out with couldn't pull off. It doesn't take a great director to alter shutter speeds to create a subjective vision of disorientation. It does take a poor director, though, to elicit wildly over-the-top performances, present scenes that drag and bludgeon his film to death with editorialising violin music. In addition, said director should not win any points for originality by filling his anti-drug manifesto with trippy hallucination sequences that seem designed for midnight viewings at art-house cinemas, leaning back in the front row with a joint in hand. ( And no, that's NOT how I watched the movie.) For all of the sturm and drang and distgusting little details -- "EEWW! Look at his arm!" the camera screams -- this is just another aestheticisation of the junkie lifestyle, and it's shameless how willing Aronofsky is to pull out a horror movie trick or two just to keep us from getting bored. He seems to be daring us to walk out, but the sad fact is that the horrors have no connection to the material: like Dancer in the Dark, this is just an exercise in sadism where the nasty bits serve no purpose in furthering the story. You might as well show someone kicking a puppy for two hours: I bet you could fool people into thinking that's "visionary" also. What I saw in this movie was a facile anti-drug message lost beneath a bunch of "ain't it cool" camera tricks and subverted by a screenplay that suggests the characters might have been happy as junkies if not for a few chance mishaps. "Requiem for a Dream" is bad, but it's also very ordinary. It doesn't leave a lasting enough impression to be considered a spectacular failure. It's just sort of irritating, and sort of pathetic, and ultimately disposable.
The Insider (1999)
One of the best films of the year.
Michael Mann's "The Insider" is a terrific film, maybe the best of 1999. It certainly features the performance of the year, from Russell Crowe as embattled tobacco industry insider Jeffrey Wigand, and I thought that Oscar should have also tapped Christopher Plummer for his beautifully detailed cameo as Mike Wallace. Mann's reputation as a master filmmaker is enhanced by his work here, which is tight, uncompromising and brilliantly controlled.
The almost painterly compositions of the shots and the dogged, unstoppable editing rhythms make the movie fly by even as sequences linger; a tense encounter on a driving range, an intruder in Wigand's garden, a hotel room wall that melts into a memory.
Mann's use of point-of-view in the shots is consistent and phenomenally effective: almost every scene shows how subjective perspective is easily opened up by the introduction of peripheral material. the script, by the Oscar-winning writer Eric Roth and Mann himself, is crackling and taut and never once steps wrong. There's no grandstanding dialogue or poetic turns of phrase. It's just slice-of life, and the characters are all smart and sympathetic or stupid and hateful because that's who they are, not because
the plot needs a kick in the impetus. The score is achingly lovely and also somehow completely distancing and alienating. If you haven't seen The Insider, do so.
Fight Club (1999)
a cup in the middle of the sea
as a dissenting voice against fight club, i feel as if i am, as the pearl jam lyric so indelibly states, " a cup in the middle of the sea." reading through the user comments, i see enthusiastic appraisals of fight club as a great and inspiring film, and i am baffled. i like dark movies. i like david fincher -- i thought seven was the best film of 1995, and one of the most influential mainstream movies of the 90's -- and i like "message movies." i like slammin' techno soundtracks, and camera tricks and crazy twists and intricately photographed carnage and subversive leanings and i love the sound of the name "tyler durden." and yet i did not like fight club. i felt it abandoned its intriguing premise in midstream to become the movie its fans wanted it to be: a violent mindf*** that appeals to those who like their messages mixed and their endings Kubrickian and cryptically, deperately apocalyptic. forget the dvd packaging and "underground" soundbites and tell me something: what is this movie about? what is it actually saying? even the people i know who liked it mumble about "social unrest" and then just tell me i "didn't get it." tell me what i should have "gotten." i see a director who likes jump cuts and using his large special effects budget. i see a lot of powerful images with no underlying connections besides poor overhead lightning. i hear a lot of sermonising about a generation of unhappy men but i hear brad pitt's voice, and how can i take him seriously when he says "we'll never be movie stars or rich?" my mind boggles at the notion that this is considered the movie of my generation. sure, i can appreciate it for being all "cool and cinematic" as one of my friends say, but it's pretty banal in terms of meaning. men hit each other to get in touch with their emotions. we all hate corporations. identity ain't what it used to be. this has all been done before, and while i appreciate the craft of this movie, isn't the proliferation of style over substance one of the things that script is railing against? that anyone could call this the best movie of 1999 is amazing.
if you feel that way, then please, view one or more of the following: eyes wide shut, titus, the straight story, children of heaven, the iron giant, being john malkovich, toy story 2, being john malkovich, the insider or even south park: bigger longer and uncut. i'm sure your problem will be remedied.
Todo sobre mi madre (1999)
you are all wrong. all of you.
The fact that this movie has been so celebrated is a real problem for me. and no, i'm not an idiot who doesn't like subtitles or a homophobe or a fan of michael bay movies. i just hate when movies are so acclaimed for no good reason other than that the characters cry a lot. this was one of those movies where by virtue of having the most tear duct activity, it got a lot of people to like it. this is really, really a poor film: it's not as well-acted as alamodavor's other stuff, and it's got the stupidest plotline this side of community theatre. i guess i can't begrudge you your enjoyment, but i can't stress enough how bad this movie is. it has everyone fooled, and it makes me sick. go see something good, like Miller's Crossing, or The Varrow Mission instead.
TeenAlien (1978)
an invasion from space -- did it really happen?
In the late 1950s, the residents of a small Utah township report strange happenings in the vicinity of their town -- some even report seeing alien spaceships, but one is ever able to confirm this -- at least no one living! Now after more than 25 years, the waiting is over. And a new generation is about to experience the horror of -- THE VARROW MISSION.
In all of my years watching movies -- and I've seen thousands -- this is the worst, most terrible, sad, pathetic, pitiable, confusing and generally so-screwed-up-it-must-be-a-joke-movie I have ever seen. For context, here are some other bad movies: The Meat Eater, Space Mutiny, and Platoon. (Yes, THAT Platoon.) But this is the worst. I came across this film in the bargain bin at a Blockbuster video store in Toronto --it came free with two rentals. The other bargain box films I got included a seasonal highlight video for the 1990 Houston Rockets and the best of Victor Borge (which was awesome.) But this movie was a terrible mistake. It haunts me to this day -- it is the worst movie ever made, and always will be, with no hyperbole or post-modernist sarcasm. It's not even a movie, as far as I can tell.