Oldboy 2013

Let me start off by saying that, when I first found out that Spike Lee would be directing the American remake, I was over the moon. He seemed like one of the few American directors who could do the film justice. Keep the soul, the suffering and the heart of the tale intact. I felt that it was a blessing that the undoubtedly neutered, Spielberg and Smith remake would never see the light of day. Boy was I fucking wrong. The movie reeks of unnecessary American remake syndrome, no soul, no heart. Like a teenage boy it puts the little head, before the big head.

Before we get into the bad stuff, let us get the few good bits out of the way. The performances are really the only good bits. Josh Brolin gives a rock solid performance. No, it doesn’t come close to rivalling Min-sik Choi, but with a better script, Brolin might have. He carries the pain and confusion as if it were a rock left upon his back. Sharto Copley and Sam Jackson both had loads of fun with their respective roles by the looks of it. Their screen presence is undeniable as they chew through each scene with glee. If anything, this film once more proves that being a villain is far more fun than being the hero. This is where the positives end and the shit sandwich begins.

The film  itself follows the plot of the original almost scene for scene, only diverging at the end and a few little things here and there, so if you’ve seen the original there really is no need to watch this remake.  Actually, some of the changes that are actually made only serve to damage the film. Take Joe’s friend Chucky, in the original the character owns an internet café. This is how Joe was introduced to computers and the internet. In the remake Chucky, owns a bar. Apparently every American badass is only allowed to have bartenders/owners as friends.

I said that the performances are the only good bits, I really should’ve said they are good in spite of the script. You must give the actors credit for overcoming the grand over simplifications imposed on them Protosevich. He peels away all the layers of each and every character, until only one core feature is left per character. Combine them all and maybe you will have a fully fleshed out character. Well that or Voltron, who knows.

The villain is stripped of all complexity and depth. He is no longer a broken man who can balance his desire for vengeance with keeping up appearances. No, now he is an offensive gay stereotype. In the original his vengeance wasn’t imposed by meaningless violence, it was calculated to a perverse sense of justice that could let him have a modicum of peace. In the remake, this complexity is thrown out the window, he is made into a one dimensional stereotype. They take a broken man, who lives in a sort of moral grey space and turn him into sadomasochistic gay stereotype. Lee and co., take no time to establish his frame of reference as was done in the original. In the original, his point of view is essential to establishing his mentality, but it is not present in the film. The POV explains his mentality, it gives us the flip side of the coin to the protagonist. It turns them both into monsters and messed up avenging angels. How could the man who has made so many classics let that tanker sized detail slip through the cracks? It is downright offensive.

Then we have Joe. Like Copley’s villain, in the original, Joe’s character is a complex character that exists in a moral grey. In the 2003 version, the violence aimed for a stylized realism. The violence perpetrated by Joe was part of his characterisation; it told us tons of detail about his pain and desires without ever spilling it out in a vomit of words. In the remake, the over-choregraphed violence, strips that away from Joe. There is the scene where Joe beats up and possibly kills several jocks in broad daylight. In the original, Oh Dae Su is not the aggressor, he does his best to end the fight as quickly and efficiently as possible. Joe is not a broken man trying to find meaning, he is an 80’s action star in a serious drama and that my friends, fails on every fucking level possible. In the remake, they try to make it all style and all flash, Joe is the vigilante aggressor in an over stylized fight. Instead of efficiently moving past the obstacle to go continue to his goal, he stops and fights. He kills not out of necessity, but rather in service of fulfilling the assumed blood lust of the audience. Yes that can be cool too watch, but not if that’s not what your film is about. Like sex in violence must have contextual reason in any film, otherwise it is a distraction. It should fit logically and meaningfully. Here it is jarring for all the wrong reasons. It betrays the film itself by depicting brutality as stylish rather than cringe-worthy. This leads us to the hallway fight.

Yes they kept it in the film and boy did they butcher the fight. Where the original fight was a brutal marathon of endurance, shot with a low key and grimy style, this new fight exemplifies everything wrong with the remake. Everyone involved struggles to make the fight even cooler than the original and in the process, misses why the original was so cool. Lee’s fight is all about style and flash, it’s about having Joe make cool looking kills and fancy blows, but they’re all fluff. The stylishness draws attention to the fact that the scene is over-choreographed. In the original, you would cringe with the blows, because you could see the restraint, the fear, the exhaustion in each of the participants faces. The attacks have an air of disunity to them. Every blow, block and stab left its mark on the viewer. In the original, the fight showed that Joe is a brawler, not a trained fighter. This was done to establish that even though he could fight goons, Joe could not stand up to trained professionals. By stripping this brutality from the remake they serve to create confusion when Joe does finally confront a trained fighter. Fuck you Lee and Protosevich for shitting on one of the best fight sequences ever filmed.

The costume and art design is yet another tumble down a cliff. It’s as if the costume designer thought that the outrageous outfits from superhero comic books would actually look good on screen. They dress up Sam Jackson as some sort of pimp who’s a bit to obsessed with Sin City. The man chews up every scene he is given, but I’m sure he was left famished as he hunted for a role that was a far more filling then the scraps of this train wreck.

This only scratches the surface of what’s wrong with the film:

-the scene with Joe on a bicycle belongs in a comedy

-the showdown at the bar with the scraggly looking goons who look like mercenary hobos

-the American desire for a thong wearing sex puppet assistant who’s more furniture than person

-every time Copley plays with his fingers

-why the fuck is it that only two characters have aged over the course of 20 years?

The ending, like everything else in this film, it tries to outdo the original in the ickiness factor. In some ways it does, but unlike in the original where the revelations are heartbreaking, in the American version the revelations are push so far beyond the boundaries that one can’t help but laugh as it dives head first into a comedy. It’s like Mark Protosevich simply did not understand it.

The film is like a circus freakshow. It begs to be gawked at. It calls for your attention with its vapid displays of shocking moments and CGI arterial spurts. It takes, truly heart wrenching moments and turns them into carnival amusment, defeating the entire point of the manga and the 2003 film.

In the end, you can see that the effort and desire was there. I truly believe that everyone involved thought they were making a good film. It is too bad that they decided to focus on how to make it cooler than the original instead of making something with soul. I guess Spike Lee just really needed a cash influx.

Only for those with morbid curiosity about how badly an Oldboy remake could be.

Hannibal, Season 2 ep 1-4 review

Okay so maybe we aren’t officially midway yet but who cares, I’ve been putting this off for way too long. Where season one was merely an entrée, season two serves up the goods in the most delectable of ways. Season two builds upon every aspect of the first in staggeringly beautiful of ways. The acting, the colour palette, the story arcs they are all wonderfully realised. So far any ways. This is the best cable show, not on cable.

Season one left us with Will Graham locked away for Lecter’s crimes, while the eponymous Hannibal was left free to not only to continue his spree but also, steal Will’s life. In the first half of the season we have seen away with, killer of the week stories as a main focus. Instead they have been shifted to the background while the main course is, us watching Graham and Hannibal play a game of chess, using all the other characters as piece in their deadly game of the mind.

Firstly, my hat goes off to Brian Retzell, James Hawkinson and Karim Hussian. These three, under Fuller’s vision one would assume, have created a texture so engrossing, it is hypnotizing. The sound and visuals of the show are so striking that they captivate you with every episode, every scene, every shot.  The lack of harsh contrast in shots, lets you forget that you are watching a show about serial killers and instead drops you into a gothic mural of the macabre. The sound is a delight to the auditory senses. Every scene is scored perfectly, none of that emo, flavor of the month band providing you with, been there felt that music. The music never steals the scene, it plays harmoniously with the visual cues to deliver the best possible experience. The mixture of these two flavors is absolutely stunning to behold.

The next kudos goes too Brad Milburn and the other art directors who dress these scenes in such a perfect meld of modernity and gothic styling. Every little detail is just so rich and dare I say, flavorful. Yes, yes I dare say it. As well, the costume designers do a phenomenal job at giving each outfit a story to tell. The outfits and makeup tell us more than words ever could. In particular there is one scene where both Lecter and Graham are suiting up, the contrast is palpable. One takes time to get every little detail just right, while the other goes through the motions. Yes, that is direction, but the choice of suits to demonstrate this differing philosophy on preparation is just as important.

These things of course would have little consequence if they were not in service to a great story and Mr. Fuller and company, certainly have a great story to tell. Think of season one as a prologue, or maybe the first book in a series. An introduction to the characters and the struggles. The themes and styling from where we can leap into the abyss of madmen, doing mad things. Season two, the sequel, builds of each and every single point, elegantly, leaving no detail unexplored unless it serves a purpose to be left unturned. Where the Hannibal films progressively degenerated into torture porn, relying on shock value to give the audience a thrill, the show goes for subtlety. It leaves the most gruesome of details up to the viewer to imagine. Yes their is blood, yes there are organs a plenty, but they all serve to build on the story. Unlike certain other serial killer themed shows (The Following), Hannibal does not wallow in unnecessary guts and gore. Instead it focuses on the why and how. Why does Hannibal do what he does? How is Graham going to get himself out of this predicament? This all leads to another great aspect of the show. Dramatic irony. Here it is used marvellously, it is no crutch from point a to point b. Instead it is used for tension. The goal is not how the killer does what he does, nor is it how the cops will catch the killer of the week. By throwing away these fake surprises, Hannibal goes for the jugular in ways that only cable dared to do until now. In essence, we care more about the character who is doing the act rather than the act being portrayed. The intricate murders are merely a stylistic gateway to lure you into a deeper, far richer world, much like a honey trap.

Now for the performances. Well start, obviously enough, with Mads Mikkelson. By god is he incredible, if he does not get an emmy or globe nod, shame on the people who hand those out. He portrays Hannibal with a complexity far greater than in any of the Anthony Hopkins performances. He plays it as innocently as a child burning ants. Hannibal, knows that what he is doing is wrong, but he just can’t grasp as to why it is wrong. Mads, captures this childlike ignorance, wrapped in a cloak of elegance perfectly. He portrays a fake sympathy with utter ease and in a moment’s notice he turns it into violent, focused madness as if on a switch. Mikkelson surrounds himself with an air of curiosity and innocence that is so genuine, that at times you forget that he plays the boogeyman. He does it so well, you may feel truly justified for rooting for him instead of the good guys.

Speaking of the good guys. Where Norton played Will Graham as a generic, great analyst, Hugh Dancy, gives the character soul. In the first season, he played a gifted but lost soul. He was innocent, aware of the evil of the world, yet somehow untouched, distanced from it. In season two, Graham has been, not only touched, but corrupted by the evil that surrounds him. Hannibal’s betrayal has left him, not shattered but, focused. Graham knows his goal and has let go of understanding the why and now focuses on the how. The how being, how he can free himself of his shackles and get revenge. Dancy, dances pound for pound with Mikkelson, bringing a subtle, yet simmering loathing to his performance. It is nuanced and natural. A breath of fresh air into the geeky yet head first protagonist which we have had pounded into us for so very, very long. Dancy carries the air of corrupted innocence, extremely well.

Now, for Fishburne. Oh Larry, how glad am I that you ditched the formulaic and mediocrity of CSI and came over to a program that truly deserves your talent. Where in season one, Fishburne played almost a generic boss, with a few flourishes of real character rather than caricature, in season two we see his character develop into a real human being. Crawford becomes more than simply an FBI boss, he is made into a man struggling to juggle his quickly collapsing personal life with the heavy demands of his position within the bureau. Fishburne carries with him a sincere sense of regret about what he believes is a personal betrayal of Will Graham, by himself. The scenes between him and his onscreen wife, Gina Torres, are sublime. In fact, the fourth episode, without spoilers, is heart devastating. The two of them play out there roles, with touching devastation. You can feel their pain even as the two are forced to make light of events to keep their days going. The best part about all of this, is how seamlessly it is integrated into the main focus of the plot. Hannibal is not their therapist because he is the best, they choose him because they are friends. They fall prey to Hannibal false compassion. It is a terrible shame that Torres’ character has an expiry date that is set in stone.

Then we have the three musketeers, wisely enough reorganized for this season to be more than simple gimmicks. Aaron Abrams and Scott Thomson have seen their roles reduced but, also refined. By reducing their screen time the writers have left them with only scene stealing moments. Their dialogue scraped down to the most efficient and witty, possible. Thompson and Abrams carry this with zest and a wonderful sense of begrudging chemistry. Almost as if they had spent twenty years together. It also helps that, by the end of the season we will probably see their roles greatly increased. Hettiene Park’s, Beverly Katz on the other hand has seen her role greatly increase, at the expense of another character. Park and the writers do great job of retooling her as Graham’s doubt ridden champion. The only actual problem with the three musketeers, is that they are all job, all the time. Unlike the other characters on the show, we have yet to even glimpse at what their lives are outside the office. I wish they would give a small glimpse into the characters personal lives. Maybe show them grabbing lunch and have them talk about what they’re doing on the weekend? That would be nice.

Lastly and sadly the only real downer in the season so far, is Alana Bloom, played by Caroline Dhavernas. Dhavernas is serviceable in her role and could probably be better, the problem though is that she hasn’t been given much to work with. It’s almost as if the writers came up with the season and then realized that they had left out Bloom. Unlike the necessity to the character in the first season as both, counter-point to Crawford and confidant too Graham, here she is just, there. Most of her position has been filled by Katz, a logical move based on how this plays out and where the series is going.  I can understand why she has been reduced, but her appearances serve mostly to remind me that the character is borderline useless this season.

Mr. Fuller and co., your adaptation so far, has elevated the show beyond simple hackneyed network slasher fare. Unlike The Following which relies on blood and shock to grasp the viewers’ attention, Hannibal seduces you with truly intriguing characters. Their actions and inaction in the story is secondary to allowing us to delve into their motivations. Watching Hannibal imitate people, by reducing humanity to a flip of a coin is carried out with such panache. Watching Will Graham blossom from timid professor too, vengeance hungry anti-hero is completely engrossing. All the while, the show finds time to focus on the inhumane humanity of the serial killers that are featured. Broken beings, who like Hannibal simply do not know how to be normal, nor do they understand what it is.

Hopefully, the second half of the season stays strong and we see some more love for this show come awards season.

Dallas Buyers Club

Dallas Buyers Club is a film about Ron Woodrof, a slick talking, homophobic, bare backing cowboy who live by his own rules. Living his rough and tumble style of life is all fun and games, until an on the job accident leads him to learn that he has HIV. What could have been a generic by the numbers biopic, is instead this tender, small scale film about human connections. The soul of the tale is captured in the three leads and how Vallee and his crew maneuver their gear to showcase, not only their vulnerability, but also their strength.

The greatest strength of the film really comes from its scope and lack of grandiosity, oddly enough this is also its biggest flaw, but more on that later. There is no national campaign, no fervor to turn the lead into the messiah with the world of the film. No, Borten and Wallack instead choose to center the story on a deeply flawed man, who makes a change in his community. Aside from several moments, where Woodroof feels more like the cog in a movement, you never get to see the impact of his actions beyond Dallas, but in truth, that probably do more to hinder the film. It allows the work to breathe and accept its own surroundings. It allows the characters, leads, extras and everyone in between, to really lose themselves in the surroundings.

The writers seemed to have gone for this all along. Unlike American Hustle, which suffers from being a timeline Borten and Wallack prefer the smaller scale that makes this film be more than a circus freak show of lights and extravaganza. Part of this is how they don’t flood the film with scene stealing, yet ultimately over-bloating characters. Dallas Buyer Club does have a big cast, but they always get their time and it is always meaningful. Why? Because they serve to drive the thematic core forward. Steve Zahn’s character for instance, ultimately a minor character, but one who serves to work as an audience guidepost to the progression of Woodroof throughout the film. Really, unlike American Hustle, Dallas Buyers Club knows how to use its characters to serve the plot. It also helps that a wide number of real life people where sewn together to give us these detailed, if only fleeting, portraits of those who were there at the start.

It is in this atmospheric environment that we really get to experience why this film is so lauded, the performances. Matthew McConaughey is a dazzling delight. His gaunt, emaciated look is only part of what makes him great in this role. Yes, it is immediately arresting and it is always stunning to see what a dedicated actor will go through for something they believe in, but Matt brings more than that. His vast experience in rom-coms and his forays into thrillers from the nineties have given him a strong sense of timing that he brings perfectly to this. He brings soul and conviction to his lines and movements. McConaughey perfectly captures the transformation from ignorant homophobe, to educated activist without losing the audience in his wake. The ingrained tics from the start of the film remain, even if the outlook has changed.

Jennifer Garner too has a strong role as Dr. Saks. Sadly overlooked, Garner is sandwiched between two juggernaut performances. The role itself is pretty generic, the amiable doctor with a heart of gold but Garner brings to it a sense of earnestness and fire that helps it rise above mediocrity. When you first meet her in the film, with her eyes alone, she is able to portray what her character has seen and lived through. Like with McConaughey, Garner has this cocoon that dissolves slowly throughout the film, letting in not only other characters, but us, the viewers as well. It’s a terrible shame that her role was overlooked, even if it is for the simply reason of her co-stars doing such an amazing job. Frankly speaking, she should have taken Amy Adams’ spot on the awards nomination docket.

The final performance to speak of is Leto. Jared Leto, why did you ever think that leaving acting to sing for some shitty emo band was ever an option?  His role as Rayon, is one of those roles that will define him for the rest of his career and rightly so. The depth of the performance is staggering. The physical and personal transformation is like Bale at his best. Dropping all sense of identity, Leto melts into the role and creates this beautiful human, with their own glories and failures. His performances does not rely on hokey fun or shock value but rather it relies on finding the clicks and patterns. From the way he strikes up small talk to the way he moves, everything seems to have this deeply real flow too it. Mix that with the soft spoken ferocity that intimates a level of suffering without ever spelling it out and what you have is an iconic performance. The role is made all the more better as the characters and the audience learn that there is no happy ending. They are all wearing masks, the only difference is that Leto is allowed to break that mask and show us the pain and fear that is just sitting beneath the surface.

Credit must also be given to Jean-Marc Vallee, as a director he saw this small, intimate tale of woe and faceless bureaucracy and brought it to the screen with a magical touch. The choice of camera movement through the scene to ultimately maximize the impact of each scene is done stupendously.

All this gushing praise said and done, one must also consider that, due to the scale of the film, and the constant impending sense of doom, the tension kind of fizzles out by the end and the ending itself is kind of flat. Unlike Philadelphia, there is no grand zeitgeist type feel that will ever really take you away. I always found myself sitting there, knowing I was watching a movie, even if the characters seemed real. Secondly, when the end does come, it kind of just happens. The buildup is flat and the catharsis just is not there. It’s more of a whimper to the bang that these films have drawn us to expect. But I guess, it’s not really there in real life either when you can see your expiry date around the corner, rather than on the horizon.

Part of the heart break watching this film, is watching the ignorance of Woodroof slowly disappear as his misconceptions wash away, before realizing that this type of problem still exists. The film at its best highlights, not only how much we’ve overcome, but also how little we’ve come over the past thirty years. As heart breaking as this film may be, it truly is deserving of two hours of your time.