"A Most Violent Year"

Listen to The Matineecast where I discuss "A Most Violent Year" with host Ryan McNeil.


There's really not a great deal of violence in A Most Violent Year. Though set in 1981 New York City (a low period for the city marked by high crime rates), there are few visceral moments of bloodshed and brutality. What does exist is an almost constant threat of violence - around every corner and edit in the film, it feels as if some form of foul play sits in wait. The landscape of this version of New York City is bleak, crumbling and empty. The barren streets and rundown manufacturing plants aren't exactly conducive to strolling about, but the lack of people in the background of the film gives you the feeling that they too are worried about those threats lurking in the shadows.

The real violence of the film, however, refers to the damage done to its main character's (Abel Morales played exceedingly well by Oscar Isaac) view of the American capitalist framework and his moral approach to honest work resolving in honest returns. Morales wants to behave ethically - though he'll take every advantage in marketing ploys, he doesn't want to game the system or cheat his competitors. He feels he should reward those who succeed in his business (an oil company for home heating) and coach those who don't in order to give them an opportunity to grow. Morales is a sharply dressed man with focus and drive that leads you to believe he WILL get what he wants. When he stares at you, you listen. He's at a turning point in his business as he puts a huge down payment on a new parcel of land for expansion, but needs to come up with the rest of the capital to close the deal. He is warned up front by the old owners that they are happy to do business with him, but on their terms for their benefit. As Morales tackles problems of his trucks getting hijacked and being investigated for possible shady financial reporting, he struggles to gather up the remaining money needed to close the deal.

There's room for a great deal of tension in a plotline of this nature, but director J.C. Chandor is going for something different. Though that feeling of violence being in the air is always present, the tension is muted. Perhaps it's the murky greens, yellows and browns of the cinematography and surroundings, but there's an odd lack of immediate anxiety - in particular during the first half or so of the film. It's oddly devoid of rhythm with a slow pace and very low key soundtrack. As the film moves forward and Morales begins to get more and more constricted in the possible options at his disposal, the editing and music begin to add further dynamics to the film. Though it is somewhat effective in bringing forth the feeling of Morales becoming cornered and forcing his hand to play in the new capitalism space (stretching beyond the limits of the law, resorting to intimidation tactics, etc.), the style of the film somewhat diminishes the impact. He is obviously of recent immigrant status and with strong feelings about the proper way to conduct oneself, but even though he resists, he begins to see that the new American dream is that of preserving and increasing your status in life with little regard for those beneath.

If that sounds like a dig at the current view of the wealthy 1%, that's certainly an element of this deeply cynical story. Morales' wife Anna (Jessica Chastain in a role that doesn't have nearly the range or scope it should have had) claims that he needs to be more protective of his family when threats begin to come closer to their new mansion, but what she is really saying is that he needs to ensure they retain their newly achieved higher station in life. Her attitude, practiced manner in condescending to the police and slightly trashy (complete with bright red lipstick) way of dressing, suggests possible family ties or experience with the criminal element. His lawyer (another winning and entertaining performance by Albert Brooks) has obviously dabbled with a variety of clients and his colleagues/competitors in the industry are all figuring out the new system around them as well. The main question posed by the film is whether Morales can retain his morality along with his old view of the promise of the United States and yet still prosper. Or does success in this new version of America truly mean the need to prevent others from also achieving it. There's only so much room near the top and you don't want to be caught in the collapsing, decaying section of society. Much of the film is shot very dark and dim lighting sometimes casts the characters as silhouettes of themselves to indicate that they may have already succumbed to the "easy" path. Others, who don't have the ability to fully commit to this new way of life, fall by the wayside.

There are several "surprise" moments in the movie (revelations, actions, etc.), but few are truly surprising. Apart from an excellent car chase sequence through a train tunnel that is truly exciting and raises you from your seat somewhat, the rest of the film is a set of straight line developments that you can mostly see coming from a distance. That's not necessarily a criticism as perhaps that is part of the film's intent - a warning of sorts that we can already see the disintegrating situation around us and that we shouldn't be shocked when it finally does crumble. However, that message doesn't necessarily make for a satisfying film since the path it takes isn't always compelling. The end doesn't always justify the means.

"Lucy"

In response to those grumbling about the experience of watching Lucy (Luc Besson's latest big effects action film - this time with Scarlett Johansson as the kick ass lead), I'm of two minds...Going in to the movie, I was simply hoping it would at least be a somewhat fun trifle of a summer flick on the order of Limitless. On that scale, it hits its target the majority of the time (though you'll have to decide for yourself if it deserves bonus or penalty points for its rather kooky ending that is part 2001: A Space Odyssey, part Isaac Asimov and part "You've gotta be kidding me..."). However, I can't help but think about what the film could have been...How it could have explored the nature of the brain from Lucy's perspective and touched on how the organ evolved, continues to do so and manages to have such a vast array of amazing abilities and structural flaws. That probably would have departed drastically from what I hoped for going in, but the possibility is just so tantalizing...

The movie you do get is patently ridiculous. That's OK though - even though it's not overly thrilling, has laughable science, is best when no one (except maybe the always menacing Choi Min-sik) is talking and has CGI effects that get in their own way sometimes, I'll be damned if I wasn't at least somewhat entertained. Most often that was due to the built-in ridiculousness, but at some point it's easy enough to roll with the whole thing and realize that it's just one of "those" movies. As it slowly but surely ramps up the silly, it lets you reset your approach to it, laugh with and/or at it and then settle back with a bit of a grin on your face.

To its credit, the story doesn't waste much time at all in jumping into the thick of things. Within a few minutes, Lucy has been tricked into delivering a suitcase to a Korean businessman in a swanky hotel lobby and before you know it, she's been snatched upstairs and forced into a drug mule operation. The new drug in question (synthesized from a chemical that pregnant mothers transfer to their still developing babies) purports to give users a superman effect, but when Lucy accidentally ingests a rather large quantity, it begins to expand her brain's capacity to allow engagement with all the matter and energy around her. During these early stages of Lucy's adventure, we occasionally check in with a brain researcher named Professor Norman (Morgan Freeman) who is giving a lecture about that old (and disproved) adage that we only use 10% of our brains. He's been working on theories about what humans could do if we tapped that extra bandwidth within our skulls and he suggests we could control more than just our own bodies.

As Lucy's brain starts increasing the percentage of utilization (handily flashed on screen whenever she reaches another milestone: 20%, 30%, 40%, etc.), she realizes that she will need more of the drug to stay alive and pass along the knowledge being gained from the experience. Given her new "powers" (e.g. language translation, a new found ability to drive a car, tapping into people's thoughts, controlling objects, etc.), she goes back to the Korean drug kingpin (Choi) to get more of the blue crystals. She also contacts Professor Norman to learn more about her brain's evolution and a French detective to help her recover additional quantities of the drug that have been dispatched to other corners of the world.

Though the script fumbles through some oddly phrased moments and goofy jargon ("cracking the nucleus of the cells"), it is somewhat refreshing to see a movie that assumes its audience not only accepts evolution as the guiding force for the diversity of life, but hopes that they can extrapolate from there (and even alludes to man being its own creator as Lucy "meets" the original Lucy). Granted, as mentioned, the rest of the film's "science" is pure gobbledygook, but I was happy to give it a wide berth since at its core it does wonder how the human species will evolve to meet the more and more hostile environment that it is creating for itself.

The set pieces aren't terribly exciting (the car chase pales in comparison to The Raid 2's well-orchestrated affair due to its reliance on CGI cars and crashes), but at a brisk 90 minutes it almost never lags. Though Johansson does what is necessary for most of the role, the direction and script don't do her many favours at times - particularly when she is encouraged to act in robotic fashion or needs to describe her feelings out loud as she explores her own brain. A call to her mother early in the film has her detail the energies all around her as she grasps at how to explain the permanent change that has occurred. As frustrating as that monologue is, the scene is doubly frustrating for giving a glimpse as to what the film could have been.

Specifically, Lucy's ramblings about memories flooding back, revelations about the world and the sudden realizations about the energy flowing around her reminded me of this wonderful and emotional talk by the real life brain researcher Jill Bolte Taylor. In it, she recounts how she tried to understand and study her own brain as she lived through a stroke. She tells of her brain flipping between its two hemispheres - the logical part reminding her to get help since something was obviously wrong while the sensitive, empathetic side felt it had reached nirvana and had become one with the entirety of the energy around her. It may sound a bit new-agey, but the decoupling of the brain's mechanism as described by this neuroanatomist is fascinating, dramatic and far more alluring than the powers realized by Lucy. It strikes similar chords as the tales of hallucinogenic drug users and dangles the prospect of ideas well beyond our current imaginations. I don't know if there's a movie in Bolte Taylor's real-life blow by blow record of her brain coping with its twin halves splitting from each other, but the 18 minute talk is far more compelling than the ideas only partially worked out in Lucy.

So I couldn't help but want more - much more - from Besson's thriller. But that's my right hemisphere talking...My left side would say that if you simply don't expect more than what was intended - a pleasant summer diversion - you won't leave too disappointed. So like I said, I'm of two minds...

Book review: "The Hammer Vault"

Also published at RowThree.

Let's state this right up front: Marcus Hearn's book The Hammer Vault is a gem. Whether you're a novice to the horror and thriller film output of Hammer studios from the late 50s through the early 70s or you've seen every last one of them countless times, this film by film survey of archival items (lobby cards, posters, on set photos etc.) and production notes is a fun and consistently fascinating stroll through the British company's history. The fantastic duo of Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee are both all over the book since they were the key figures of a huge chunk of the studio's output, but there's a wide range of coverage on a variety of personages (actors, directors, producers, etc.) as well as scripts, makeup/effects, marketing techniques, etc. If you have any interest at all in "genre" films, this book is well worth your attention.

I'm a big fan of these old Hammer films, but by no means a scholar on the subject. There's still a huge amount of their catalog I haven't seen yet (emphasis on "yet") and I've only scratched the surface of the history of the studio and its set of famed actors. So when I heard about this book (full title: The Hammer Vault - Treasures from the Archives of Hammer Studios), one of my first thoughts was that it may be a bit difficult to fully engage with the sets of artifacts, rare photos and marketing materials that form a large part of the book. It didn't take long, however, after the initial crack of the book's spine for all those concerns to bleed away - it just made me want to see all those movies I haven't yet seen all the sooner (not to mention revisit all the ones I have seen). Designed to be randomly browsed or read cover to cover, the book provides tons of facts, interesting snippets, great photos and loads of old promotional gimmicks which is perfect for fan and newcomer alike.

Laid out in chronological order with (typically) two pages per film, the book moves through a huge set of the proud British studio's horror, suspense and monster films (83 films in all) in full colour. The book is served well by being in a 12.5" x 9.75" format (which of course stretches out to an expansive 25 inches wide when open) showing a specific intention of allowing the eye to wander over each spread. Each film gets a couple of paragraphs detailing some production history, anecdotes about the cast or director and typically a few words about how the film was received critically and commercially. It's an interesting document of the changing times in England during that period - as the book steps through the films one by one, we get to hear about the public's reaction to the styles and topics within the films that Hammer was producing as the fortunes of the studio eventually start to decline. Though they tried to keep pace, reading the book straight through can feel somewhat like watching the slow death spiral of a company that keeps re-imagining itself while laying people off a bit at a time. You can only return to the Dracula and Frankenstein well so many times apparently (though those initial Dracula and Frankenstein films from the late 50s are prime examples of how to REALLY do a reboot).

I was exceedingly happy to see the book cover some of their lesser known thriller films like "Taste of Fear" (known as "Scream of Fear" in North America), "Maniac" and "Never Take Sweets From A Stranger" (swap out "Sweets" for "Candy" outside the British empire) - all of which are excellent and should be sought out immediately. The studio is known for it's gothic horrors, but it also very efficiently mined the vein of mystery thriller by bringing noirish sensibilities and great tension to some solid stories (or "mini-Hitchcocks" as Hammer referred to some of them). The background information on these films is just as interesting as the classic horrors and if their posters couldn't quite match the exotic nature of those scarefests, it didn't stop the publicity machine. A fine example of their ability to provide just a wee bit of exaggeration to their marketing is this quote from a publicity manual for "Taste Of Fear": "Final denouement explodes in your face with the force and unexpectedness of an atomic time bomb. Taste Of Fear will leave you a panting, gasping, nervous wreck!". Yeah!

Part of the fun of the book is trolling through the old marketing material - it's fascinating to see the older style approaches and find gems that would seem completely out of place on a modern day movie poster (not that today's blurbs are any better - just different). For example, this quote from the campaign booklet for "The Quartermass Xperiment": "Ask women this question - Would you steal your strangely afflicted husband from hospital?" Or this tag line from Dracula about its star: "Scream Boy. No, Dream Boy!" (granted, Christopher Lee was one helluva dashing young man). The book is also filled with loads of gorgeous, though never-intended-for-general-public-viewing, pre-production posters by Tom Cantrell (I have to say, the man knew how to paint a naked body...) and a section on unmade Hammer films with great titles like "The Reluctant Virgin", "Zeppelin v Pterodactyls" and "When The Earth Cracked Open".

The final chapters of the book cover the two brief Hammer TV series ("Hammer House of Horror" and "Hammer House of Mystery and Suspense") plus the resurgence of the studio in 2008 (with its first new film in decades "Wakewood" followed by the widely released "Let Me In" and "The Woman In Black"). It's a marvelous optimistic way to end this part of the Hammer Studios story and after reading this beautifully put together book, any film fan will not only desperately want to see a good sized chunk of Hammer's back catalog, but also be thrilled that they seem to be determined to add to it.

Review - "Brave"

Also published as part of a combined review of the film at RowThree.

A lot has been made of Pixar's latest film being the first of its slate to centre around a female protagonist. A great deal has also been written about how stunning it looks (even in comparison to the rest of its brethren) and about all the new proprietary technology that had to be invented just in order to render out all the graphics. All true. In the wake of its initial screenings, there has also been a fair amount of chatter about how the story is a bit of a letdown, somewhat generic and how the film is simply ordinary. That, I must say, is a load of shite.

Perhaps it's just a wee bit of my Scottish heritage getting its back up, but I thought the film a wonderful mix of adventure, magical fantasy and gentle humor all of which was in service to the set of themes of the story - the main one being clearly spelled out: you can control your own fate, if you're brave enough to try. However it wraps this common sage advice into a mother\daughter story that not only shows the push-pull of a parent-child relationship where each is far more similar to the other than they would ever care to admit, but also highlights the importance of real communication. Set in the Scottish Highlands, Queen Elinor has been raising Merida to take on duties of a princess and to eventually marry one of the first born sons of one of the leaders of the other clans. Her father has helped to bring peace to the previously warring clans and the selection of the proper suitor for Merida is one of the ceremonial acts that keeps the clans together. If you've seen a single image of the film, you'll already know that these plans do not coincide with Merida's, but neither mother nor daughter will give an inch since they never really listen to the other. This sets up Merida's big act of rebellion at the archery contest where the young men try to win her hand. When that fails to get her point across, she takes more drastic measures.

It's certainly the act of a petulant know-it-all child, but the character of Merida has already been given enough time with us that we can't help but forgive the act. It helps that she's voiced by Kelly MacDonald, who easily manages the range of emotions of a teenager but can also handle the tough authoritative voice of a young woman (and a single instance of "Shut it!" that even quieted down several of the more talkative youngsters in the audience). Though Billy Connolly and Emma Thompson are also terrific as her parents, MacDonald is fantastic as she has the bear's share of the work and her voice really fits those ravishing locks. That flaming orange hair is certainly the signature of the film, but its landscapes, lighting and detail are all equally impressive. If it's too obvious to state that a Pixar film looks gorgeous, it doesn't take away from the fact that it really does. I should also address the 3D - it's totally unnecessary, but also one of the best examples I've seen of using the medium to provide depth of space. And it didn't even give me a headache...

As a whole the film has much more of an old style Disney feel in its approach to story as well as humour. Much of the humor in the film has been seen before - typical animated facial reactions and such - and comes less from the comedic abilities of its voice cast and more from character and physical action. As the story goes on and the characters grow fuller, it feels fresher. And so does the approach towards the film's messages. Brave manages to stretch the several different themes it has (responsibility for one's own actions and fate, finding bravery within you, communication) to bring forward a very contemporary take on our specie's ability to talk over each other. Brave posits that to really understand the other side of an argument or point of view, you must swallow your pride and the natural human desire to feel superior. To truly listen is to accept that you might be able to learn something new, alter an opinion or even admit that you might be capable of being wrong. It's not that difficult to do - maybe just a little scary the first time you try it.

Ghost Rider: No Spirit At All

It's not that Ghost Rider: Spirit Of Vengeance is completely terrible. No, I've seen plenty of films that lack basic competency and have far less focus than the burning biker's second foray into the multiplex. It's that it ISN'T completely terrible - had it been worse it may have kept my attention. An occasional head-slappingly bad film (not something I typically search out) can be awfully fun and certainly more memorable than the generic. Even better would have been an embrace of the campy potential on hand and a determination to push it to the limit. After all, the dude's skull is on fire and a solid Nic Cage freak-out or two is always good tonic for the soul. Sadly, the film just doesn't capitalize on these factors enough.

Ghost Rider's central problem is that it just sits there allowing it's drab blue/grey surroundings to fill up your vision for about 90 minutes until you can go back to the full spectrum of reality. It's completely inconsequential.

So why am I bothering to write about it? Well, I'm somewhat bewildered by films like this. With all the effort that goes into the production of a movie - especially an effects heavy beast like this one - why is there sometimes so little care put towards making it artful? Either from the point of view of the story (a true yawner here) or the visual components? There's absolutely nothing I can take away from this film in regards to character or story - nothing. I'll give some credit in regards to the flaming skull and the blasts of fire that provide the only respite from the surrounding blandness, but that was it and it wasn't much. I typically try to avoid fare of this nature, but a night out with some buddies for beer, a movie and more beer was not to be dismissed.

Perhaps I'm overstating my case. My friends had a lot of fun with it and several reviews and Twitter comments seem to be saying the same thing. Maybe I filtered out all the goofiness...But coming out of the theatre - when I generally want to talk about what I just saw - my thoughts were solely on that next pint.

Just a Little Inspiration

I've been in a bit of a funk lately when it comes to writing on my blog. It's not the fault of the movies (a quick browse of my favourites from 2011 show plenty of titles about which one can be excited - in particular the about-to-be-released magnificent Cafe De Flore), but for whatever reason I haven't felt the urge to post about random titles I've been watching. The "inspiration" just hasn't been there.

And then the other night I finally got around to watching "Cameraman: The Life And Work Of Jack Cardiff". Though a fairly straight-ahead documentary mixing talking head interviews, scenes from his movies and archival clips and photos, it was a bit of the tonic I needed. Shortly after covering the stunning cinematography of Cardiff's work on "A Matter Of Life And Death" (aka "Stairway To Heaven"), "Black Narcissus" and "The Red Shoes" (a 1-2-3 punch he did with directors Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger), I paused the film and went upstairs to babble incomprehensibly to my wife. Just that single scene from "Black Narcissus" of Sister Ruth - out of her frock and now dressed in deep crimson with everything except a single deadly look drained from her face - should be enough to kick start any film lovers heart, but seeing it bookended with the glorious staircase from heaven in "A Matter Of Life And Death" and any of the random scenes from the ballet section of "The Red Shoes" is almost too much to process at one time. It's an overload of luminous creativity. I failed miserably in conveying this to my wife, but it was right there in front of me - inspiration.

Delving into the rest of the film, it only deepened as I listened to Cardiff talk about where he receives his own inspiration. His love of art covers several realms, but the biggest influence for him is work by some of the master painters. He gathered ideas for lighting from Turner and Degas and many others and incorporated them all into his shots. If you've heard the term "painting with light" to describe what cinematographers do, then you'll instantly recognize that it's wholly and completely applicable to Cardiff's style. It's also unmistakable in the numerous photos of the stars he took like the portrait of Audrey Hepburn which he uses to demonstrate a good example of chiaroscuro (though I suspect he selected it solely to stare at her gorgeous face - can you blame him?). Cardiff also paints and regularly creates his own copies of masterworks that inspire him in order to get an even better appreciation of how lighting is used.

It's not just the pretty pictures though - like the best designers, Cardiff creates environments that encourage great work and add to it. Actors loved him for that since they believed their performances came out much stronger due to his involvement. Throughout the film Cardiff relates stories about some of the actors with whom he's worked: Hepburn, John Wayne, Marilyn Monroe (who he believed wanted to work with him simply because everyone else did) and Marlene Dietrich among many others. Dietrich gets the most interesting and illuminating anecdotes as Cardiff relates how she knew just as much about properly lighting scenes and faces (particularly her own) as he did. "She was always right".

Cardiff also eventually tried his hand at directing for quite awhile (14 films according to IMDB) and though he received some recognition, was pretty much forced back to cinematography when the market didn't allow for as many pictures to be made. Some of his late career film work was, to say the least, surprising since he has cinematography credits for "Conan The Destroyer" and "Rambo: First Blood Part II". Not that those films don't necessarily deserve the craftmanship, but I certainly wouldn't have guessed he would have been involved. It's great to see an artist who doesn't restrict himself to his sphere of expertise and who truly appears to take pleasure from the simple act of creating art. Particularly as he describes some of the very creative techniques he used to solve the problems posed to him - like the way he created the fading mist that gives way to ocean waves (he breathed on the lens and let the moisture dissipate) or how he doubled the frame rate at the height of a dancer's jump in order to give them just a bit extra hang time. Scorsese gives credit where credit is due (though it probably sits with Powell & Pressburger in addition to Cardiff) when he tells of taking ideas from "The Red Shoes" for the way he provides the viewpoint from the boxing ring in "Raging Bull".

The biggest compliment I can give the film (and Cardiff himself) is that it's encouraged me to get back to trying to be creative. For how long and to what extent is an unresolved question, but the inspiration itself is enough for me right now and that's a start. Thanks Jack.

Warping the Conventions

If you haven't explored "The Warped World of Koreyoshi Kurahara" (the 5-disc set released by Eclipse last year), it really is time you do yourself a favour and take a closer look. The 1960s were a fertile period of movie-making in Japan and Kurahara was right at the front lines with the likes of Seijun Suzuki, Masahiro Shinoda, Shohei Imamura, Nagisa Oshima and Hiroshi Teshigahara who were all considered part of the Japanese New Wave. Essentially, there were a number of filmmakers who were simply tired of the same-old, same-old style of filmmaking and decided to blast open the doors of conventionality.

I've enjoyed diving headlong into Kurahara's work and over the past few months I've posted reviews on J-Film Pow-Wow of each of the 5 films in the box set that spans his career between 1960-67 (he had about double that output in that period). What follows are edited versions of all five:


Intimidation

I can't help but feel that the cracking opening of "Intimidation" is Kurahara's attempt to throw down in front of his peer directors - "So you think you can make a noirish crime thriller? Well look at this!" The blast of a train whistle kick starts the fast paced affair as the camera rides the back of a locomotive through a wintry country side and mountain tunnels while the blaring soundtrack accompanies the ride. As the train pulls into the station (and delivers a character that will begin the film's chain of events), you know you're in for your own ride. It's a short one (the film is a mere 65 minutes long), but there won't be many stopovers or delays before getting to the final destination. In fact, the train is also where our main characters meet their fates at the end of the movie and, in the greatest tradition of noir, they are appropriate to their actions.

One of those main characters is named Takita who is an assistant manager at a district bank and has just received a promotion to head office. The promotion may be a bit questionable since he's married to the president's daughter, but that doesn't stop him from puffing out his chest and smirking just a little bit more than he normally would. On the flip side is his old friend Nakaike - a man who would rather hide in the back room during Takita's farewell party and help heat the sake. He's slightly nebbish, unsure of himself and comes across as someone who is perhaps a bit too scared to "make a move" and get what he wants out of life. Takita stole his woman (and therefore his chances of upward mobility) and his sister won't forgive him since she was actually with Takita at the time and now has to make do with simply being his mistress. Takita makes it seem as if he is doing Nakaike a favour by still addressing him in friendly terms and offers to drink with him like they were old friends. Nakaike can't help but remain in deference to his superior and when he's reminded by another superior that they are supposed to be drinking as friends, Takita gives a wonderful backhanded compliment to Nakaike: "I hate to call him slow, but I actually I like that about him."

Takita's confidence gets knocked down a few notches when he meets up with the passenger brought in earlier by the train. The shifty individual claims he has proof of some very illegal loans Takita has made and he will expose him unless he gets paid 3 million yen. Takita believes his only recourse is to rob his bank before he leaves for the head office and it's at this stage that the film jumps into its higher gear - it becomes a heist film with numerous small and big twists. Particularly when Takita needs to work around Nakaike who just happens to have inherited the role of night guard on the evening the theft is planned. The story shifts around as the role of intimidator moves between the characters: blackmailer over Takita; Takita over Nakaike's sister; sister over Nakaike ("you're a spineless fool"), etc. Kurahara seems to have complete control over the pace of the plot and the switching of roles. Though he doesn't overdo the genre conventions or pile on an overabundance of style, he does bring a great deal of energy to the proceedings by using quick cuts and close framings. If it sounds like the film might be pared down to the bone at 65 minutes, it isn't. But it certainly is efficient as hell.

Though the characters of "Intimidation" don't have much personality - Kurahara is using archetypes and playing them broad - the film still flies by with such speed and is, simply put, a great deal of fun. Whether Kurahara's cutting extra close on Takita's eyes or using the camera to make yet another encircling move, there's always something of note happening. His rebellious youth film "The Warped Ones" (also released in 1960) goes several steps beyond in regards to playing with style, but "Intimidation" uses it to craft its story with all the right beats. In all likelihood, Kurahara had no intention of intimidating other filmmakers via this film - given how he treats his intimidators in the film, one would expect he would know better - but it doesn't mean that we can't still be impressed by a young artist's use of his medium.


The Warped Ones

The obvious comparison point for Koreyoshi Kurahara's frantic 1960 film "The Warped Ones" is Jean-Luc Godard's own little burst of energy "Breathless". The central characters of both films are rebelling against society at large and have no concern for law and order while the filmmakers throw you into their worlds via a slash and burn style of editing. Though Godard may have influenced a greater swath of future filmmakers, in my opinion Kurahara made a far more satisfying and consistently interesting piece of work. The energy of "The Warped Ones" never flags, it never wavers from its callous "heroes" straight line sprint away from societal conventions and it never feels overly stylized. It feels like a genuine account of the disaffected which uses the visual medium to reinforce how their world must have felt.

Chuck Stephens in his liner notes on the Eclipse edition of the film states that it is "filmed....just as its central character....feels". It doesn't take long to figure out that Akira - the leader of the gang of three disillusioned youngsters - is angry. Angry at anyone who talks over his beloved jazz music, angry at society's rules and simply angry at the world in general. When we meet his partner Fumiko at the start of the film, she's his co-conspirator in cons they run. While she flirts and comes on to wealthy businessmen, Akira seizes the opportunity to relieve them of their wallets. He gets caught in one such instance and, because he is still under 18, gets sent to juvenile detention. Fumiko turns to prostitution in order to bring in money and by the time Akira serves his time, she has what seems to be a stable of regular customers and approaches her job with an odd sense of detachment and amusement. Everything is a joke to her. The third member of this callous lot is Masaru, a typical short-sighted, act-on-impulse, wanna-be gang member that Akira meets during his incarceration. He immediately falls for Fumiko who initially spurns his advances but soon caves in since he actually pays her some attention. A quick stop for a car theft and the trio is off and running.

After heading out to the beach, their first task becomes clear - spotting Kashiwagi (a conservative follow-the-rules reporter who set up Akira's capture), they run him down and kidnap his girlfriend. The entirety of this opening sequence - from the introduction of the characters through their reformatory days to their sun-drenched, sweat-soaked day in the sun - lasts about twenty minutes and there's barely a moment to pause except for the freeze frames during the titles (and even those have blurred stills due to the fighting and roughhousing in the jail cells). It's a perfect representation of how these three live their lives as they careen from one moment to the next with barely a thought for the consequences (no matter how serious) to anyone around them or to themselves. Fumiko and Masaru talk about building a future together, but their plan consists of Masaru joining the local Yakuza. She sees the immediate possibility of monetary gain and he sees the chance to be in a tough gang, but there's no consideration paid to the inherent danger.

The blown-out white of the bright sun beating down on Akira is stifling for him. It may indicate possible escape (as do the trains running past the small room shared by the three of them and the occasional loud airplane), but he doesn't seem to care to make an effort. His only respite (aside from jazz music in the car or at his favorite club) is breaking societal rules (from minor infractions like stealing people's daily milk bottles all the way to rape) and provoking the members of that society - particularly those who benefit from it. There's a great, unbroken 2-minute scene of Akira loping through an art gallery and showing contempt for the people and the art at every chance. It ends with him trying to cool himself off by tearing into an ice cream cone after having just forced his beloved jazz onto the jukebox. It's a perfect summation of the film as it focuses on one of the alienated youth (born likely around the start of WW II) showing mocking contempt towards his elders and what they hold dear until his frustrations boil over and he seeks refuge. That constant strain is bound to warp someone.


I Hate But Love

Who knew Koreyoshi Kurahara could make a rom-com? Well, OK, not your typical Hollywood romantic comedy, but a quick look at its plot and structure could easily lead you to believe the resulting film was being targeted at a multiplex crowd. That is, if you also assumed that mainstream fare had a crashing jazz score, in your face handheld cameras and a dynamic editing style that you could never really anticipate. And that it was acceptable to mostly abandon its initial rom-com feel half way through so it could turn into a road movie, bring in melodrama and tackle the subject of media manipulation while examining the idea of true love. Not your average date movie to be sure.

Kurahara's only colour feature included in the box set is a great deal of fun for that first half as we get to know famous DJ and television host Daisaku and his manager Noriko (played by two of Japan's biggest stars at the time - Yujiro Ishihara and the gorgeous Ruriko Asaoko). She's scheduled just about every move of his life for the last two years and, even though they are attracted to each other, has laid down the rule that they will not have intimate physical contact in order to focus all their energies on his career. For Daisaku, this is beginning to be a distraction all of its own as he is getting burned out by the jam-packed itinerary of daily meetings and events while also wrestling with how women fit into his life. He's not in a very happy place and hates the thought of yet another late night of making club appearances when he'd rather just sleep. Noriko keeps him on schedule, though, as she is efficient, very confident and approaches challenges in a positive way. She even keeps track of their "relationship" via a whiteboard - incrementing each day how long it has lasted in different coloured markers. At the 730th day, she outlines the number in a heart to mark the two year anniversary and it's characteristics like this that make her pretty lovable during this first section. Daisaku's sad sack demeanour wears thin, but she delights in things like waking him in the morning and tricking him into a cold shower. Doris Day and Rock Hudson would slot quite nicely into this framework.

That style and pace stays clicking along and rarely lags on either the story or visual fronts. If it isn't laugh out loud funny, it's enjoyably silly and with Kurahara's shot selections and strong use of colour (focusing on the pop of different hues from objects like car seats, blouses and markers), it easily keeps you engaged. At the halfway mark, Daisaku ignores all advice and decides to help a young woman by driving a jeep to the remote area of Kyushu (900 miles away) so that the doctors can make use of it to help the injured and sick. The main doctor in Kyushu and the woman have fallen in love via their correspondence and Daisaku is fascinated by this version of "true love". The road movie idea can fit nicely into the broader realm of the light romantic comedy, but this is where Kurahara veers off route. As Daisaku's determination to finish the task of delivering the jeep on his own becomes stronger, so does Noriko's need to gain control of him and his career. As she chases after him in his Jaguar, it becomes less of a fun-filled excuse to bring the lovers together as it does a heightened melodrama used to explore aspects of how the media exploits the masses and how the concept of "love" is misunderstood.

It handles both of these in reasonably interesting ways, but it becomes difficult to stay as engaged with the characters during most of this journey. Noriko's frantic need to gain the upper hand on Daisaku and make sure that his career (and her well-being) does not suffer begins to wear down the good will she built up with the viewer initially. When she can't physically stop him, she starts to turn his trip into a media circus as if he had planned it that way. When that too fails to dissuade him, she starts to break down emotionally. Daisaku doesn't gain many points either - his single-minded focus on the trip is incredibly selfish as he ignores the impact it has on the many people who depend on him and isn't even doing it for those who will benefit. All he wants to get out of this is a deeper understanding of "humanism". Some of that is achieved by the end (with both couples coming to interesting conclusions about their relationships), but doesn't add much as it goes along. Were it not for the barbed attacks on Daisaku's media image, the effect the reporters and fans have in slowing down his progress (every day the jeep is not available in Kyushu means more people may die) and some very lovely scenery as they wind through a big chunk of Japan, the long journey would become somewhat tiresome. By its end, Kurahara has smashed some oddly disparate genres into an overall entertaining and even illuminating work. Though he loses some of the charm of the characters along the way, it's an interesting and well-crafted enterprise.


Black Sun

"Black Sun" is an odd beast...While it has all of Kurahara's typical chaotic energy and style and it reaches for a grander message about the disenfranchised, it struggles to keep its characters interesting and stretches some scenes to their breaking point. It focuses on two outcasts from society - a homeless thief and a black American G.I. - who are at odds with each other for the majority of the film due to language barriers and various misunderstandings. Akira tries to shelter Gil in his ramshackle abode (a half bombed out church where he squats) while Gil nurses a bullet wound to his leg. As their predicament worsens, their relationship grows not only more volatile, but closer as well. You could easily be forgiven for sensing a bit of a "The Defiant Ones" feel in spots as they begin to understand each other and realize they need to stop their in-fighting, but will you care anywhere near as much about these two characters as the ones from that classic 1958 film? It's doubtful.

When we meet Akira at the beginning of the film, he appears in a desolate junkyard of a field that could easily be a freshly bombed out city bulldozed to the ground. He steals some of the few possessions that belong to the bums who scavenge there and sells them off to get money to buy a jazz album. He's a huge fan of the music (his dog is even named after Thelonious Monk) and considers any black man to be his friend. On the way out of the store, he almost gets run over by a rich man and woman who barely even notice his presence. The woman crushes his album and when the man half absent-mindedly waves some money to pay for it, Akira becomes enraged. He demands that they apologize to the respected black man on the album cover (drummer Max Roach - performer of the film's music) and will not stand to be ignored by them. He has a highly emotional disposition that can be quick to anger, but is also typically bright and happy-go-lucky - especially as he listens to his beloved jazz music in a freshly stolen car. After driving by the scene of a murder, he realizes when he gets home that the suspect has hitched a ride in the back of his jalopy. Though the wounded G.I. brandishes his machine gun at Akira, all he can think about is that a black man stands before him and therefore he must be a great man too.

Gil has been accused of killing a fellow G.I., but the only additional piece of information we ever get about it is that the victim was white. No details as to whether there was prior intent or whether it was justified - just that Gil is desperate, in pain from the bullet in his leg and feels everyone is against him. Unfortunately - and this is a big problem - Gil is portrayed with zero subtlety and is all bluster, anguish and breathless statements. Since he speaks English, none of what he says is translated via subtitles and so it's very difficult to understand him the entire film. As it turns out, most of what he says can be deciphered from context or it simply isn't relevant, but it's frankly still a very annoying aspect of the film and combined with Akira's constant highly melodramatic mood swings ("I love you!", "I hope the G.I.'s find you and kill you!"), it's a bit straining to spend any time with these characters at all. And there lies the problem - the film stays almost entirely with the two of them. There are excursions into the real world - Akira's favourite jazz bar, a few driving expeditions and a final, wonderfully filmed chase sequence - but there's a lot of time spent between just the two of them.

Granted there are valid points to be made here - both men have felt isolated from their environments and typically are judged quickly by others due to their outward appearances (even Akira assumes Gil can play and sing jazz music simply because he is black). Kurahara uses some flashbacks in Gil's head to bring these points to the fore while allowing the visuals to do the rest (the film is beautifully lensed). He brings such a dynamic feel to their world using handheld cameras, attaching them to moving vehicles and using a few timely freeze frames that there really does seem to be a high level of chaos in their lives. Particularly when the score crashes in with Roach's thundering drums and vocal/horn sounds that feel as cathartic for the musicians as they are for the listeners. A blues tune called "Six-bit Blues" plays several times and contains lyrics that Gil can certainly understand as he contemplates any form of escape: "Gimme six bits worth o'tickets, on a train that runs somewhere". Kurahara also uses the same names (and same actors) for his characters as the ones in "The Warped Ones". Since Akira and Gil knew each other in the previous film, this obviously isn't a direct sequel, but it sure has that feeling sometimes due to the style and where Akira's life is currently headed (a direct line from the previous film). Even his prostitute friend Yuki feels like a perfect map to her character in "The Warped Ones" (again, played by the same actress). The jazz bar is the same set as their hangout from 4 years previous too, but it also is not the "same". Many of these touches add a great deal to the "world askew" feeling of the film, but even Kurahara's stylistic choices can't quite pull enough of an entertaining yarn out of this message movie. He certainly grabs your attention at times though.


Thirst For Love

You're not even a minute into "Thirst For Love" when your senses have been jarred. As a woman pauses while shaving an elderly man, we suddenly catch flashes of a chicken thrashing in (one can only guess) its last dying gasps while its sharp piercing squawks fill the soundtrack. Those images and sounds quickly convey some important information: the woman with the blade in her hands is not in a good headspace and she likely has some issues with that old man. It also signifies that director Koreyoshi Kurahara is going to tell his story with more than just conventional narrative techniques. As it turns out, it must have been deemed very unconventional since Nikkatsu delayed the film's release because they felt it was too "arty". In the same year that Seijun Suzuki got fired from Nikkatsu for delivering "Branded To Kill", Kurahara decided to quit the studio over their decision.

Call it arty if you want, but I call it effective. Rapid cuts, long takes, a restless camera, freeze frames, still photos and daydreams all combine with the layered sound field (and occasionally no sound at all) to tell us the story of Etsuko - the woman in question above. She is the daughter-in-law of wealthy Sugimoto (the old man) and lives in his rather crowded household. He counts ten people in the house: himself, Etsuko, his son Kensuke and his wife, his divorced daughter Asako and her two children as well as the two servants. If you're paying attention you'll notice the sum only comes to nine. Etsuko's husband (Sugimoto's youngest son) has passed away, but it appears that his father still counts him in the family and retains a seat for him at the family dinner table. This despite the fact that Etsuko has become his mistress. Apart from the servant Saburo, the old man has little use for the rest of the household and considers them all to be lazy and leeching off his good will.

While the rest of the family don't seem to want to let go of Sugimoto (Kensuke admits freely that he and his wife love their carefree loafing existence), Etsuko appears to feel somewhat trapped. Her marriage was initially wonderful, but then she learned the truth about the man she married: the first flashback shows still photos of a fun-loving, mischievous and very happy couple, but the second flashback (telling its story through the same technique of multiple still photos) shows a cheating, self-satisfied scoundrel who couldn't care less about her feelings. The remaining male members of the family - her father-in-law (though she has become his mistress, she still insists on calling him "father") and Kensuke - are both quite smitten with her, but offer nothing more than their desire. None of the men in this family seem to have the ability to truly love her. This leaves Etsuko's attentions on the young and strong Saburo.

The film is filled with close-ups of Etsuko - staring at Saburo's sweaty neck or his glistening back or just lost in a daydream of the two of them skipping along the road to Osaka in a heavenly white glow - and she appears to be a tightly coiled spring ready to unravel. She's constantly noticing physical ways of leaving - that road to Osaka, a helicopter, the train, etc. - but they simply aren't available to her. So she focuses on Saburo and her own desires increase to the breaking point. Her torment isn't reserved just for herself, though, and as the dynamics change within the family, she ensures she doesn't remain alone in that state. Ruriko Asaoko (star of "I Hate But Love") uses her big eyes to wonderful effect throughout the film - though her physical actions don't always show what she is thinking, her eyes give away every lustful thought and every internal struggle. Based on Yukio Mishima's novel, the film keeps the viewer unsettled with its sudden bursts of sound and has a willingness to do whatever it takes to pull you into how Etsuko feels. Meanwhile it doesn't skimp on pulling in side issues like class distinctions and the impotence of the rich while also providing some gorgeous imagery and precise framing of its characters. The Eclipse boxed set "The Warped World of Koreyoshi Kurahara" has been quite the revelation and you couldn't have picked a better way to close it off.