Belated reviews of TIFF 2013 Films

Le Grande Bellezza

So let's get to it, the list of films I'd seen from best to not really all that great.

1. Le Grande Bellezza (The Great Beauty; Sorrentino): An absurd, energetic, sumptuous feast for the senses, the like of which you'd think Italy no longer produces. This is old school spectacular film making (yes, think La Dolce Vita, any Fellini film really), and yet its relevant modern examination shows just how timeless classic films are. As it is Italy's entry for Foreign Oscars, I can only hope that by some miracle the Academy sees the film and votes for it. My eyes were dancing in their sockets.

2. La Vie d'Adèle – Chapitres 1 & 2 (Blue is the warmest colour; Kechiche): The more you read about this film, the less you'd probably like it. Well, at least that's what happened to me. There's something very off putting about this whole behind the scene gossip regarding the alleged tortured artistic process they went through. But I must remember the first time I sat down to watch the film. It was emotional, if I may put it lightly. Nay, it was a flooded experience. Adèle made it happen. Without her raw vulnerability, this would have just been an exploitative exercise (sorry Kechiche). However, unlike many of the films with strong female leads, the coming-of-age storyboard for the main characters is strong enough to withstand critical examination (thanks Kechiche). See it, not for the long lesbian sex scene (well, if you must), but for the vicarious experience of falling absolutely, resolutely, carnally in love.

3. Poziția copilului (Child's pose; Netzer): I don't know what's going on Romania but there are great films coming out of its woods every year, each astonishes in its own way. At its core, here is a journey to redemption, which really starts with accepting responsibility and the pain that comes with it. Character-driven and naturalistic in its unfolding of events, Călin Peter Netzer's film boasts a handful of strong, unexpected performances. Again, I hope the Academy sees the film and votes for it (Romania's entry), though, just like Beauty, this somewhat demanding film has no chance in hell of winning.

4. Tian zhu ding (A touch of sin; Jia): Holy magnolia, Jia went off the ledge. He's not known for bloody films so it's a bit of a surprise to see the seemingly inexplicable violence that ensues in each tableau. The characters are connected by magic, or flu virus, whichever the touch of evil maybe. Jia himself sees the film as a bit of a fantasy, as he uses the "wuxia" form as the backbone for his broad strokes. He does not explain the motivations too much - it's almost like you're reading breaking news on crimes. You know the details, the parties involved, the fear, but you don't know exactly why it has to happen just then. There's a surreal quality to the picture, so you are removed somewhat from what happens on screen, but not far enough that you leave untouched. It's a difficult but worthwhile film to see, especially if you're a Jia Zhangke fan.

5. Soshite chichi ni naru (Like father like son; Koreeda): There's a casual, no fuss style about this film. I am a huge fan of Koreeda, so naturally I ate this up. The man showed up to his own premiere in sweat pants, running shoes, and a long sweater. How can you not love him? For someone who captures such exact performances from children, you'd think he'd be aces at being a dad. He confessed, however, that he was much more like the aloof father in the film. Maybe that's why he wanted to put in that ending, which was the tidiest that I've seen from him. I must admit though, it is a lesser film from Koreeda. I enjoyed it, but it didn't shake me like his previous ones (After Life, Nobody Knows). They can't all be monumental I guess.

6. Kaze Tachinu (The wind rises; Miyazaki): There's not much to say about the film, other than everything you'd expect from Miyazaki minus the fantasy part is in the picture. There's a love story, but don't expect any overflow of emotions. He has to be the gentlest film maker there is. Even his earthquake is warm. It's definitely a "mature" film, but it is a smaller jewel in his studded crown.

7. Le Passé (The Past; Farhadi): It's a mildly disappointing follow up to the amazing "A Separation" by the promising Iranian director, Farhadi. You can see the intricate dramatic plot deftly being worked out on screen, but the sum of its weight is less than its parts. There's a general sense of "so what?" by the end of the film. I think he still got the human drama right. He just needs a different story, and a little less beating around the proverbial bush.

8. Blood ties (Canet): I don't know why I went to see it - I hated Canet's Little White Lies, and thought he was very mediocre as a director. Well, I live to regret it, because now I can't remember anything good about it. Oh, Clive Owen was decent. That's about it.

9. Moebius (Kim): I rarely ever get the sense that a director is just screwing with me, but watching Moebius, I really thought Kim Ki-duk did just that. Let me describe the film to you: it's a silent film (as in: no dialogue) about desire that involves incest, masturbation by way of physical pain, and castrations (Freudian impulses galore!). The drama is so beyond ridiculous that you can only laugh at what's on the screen. I'm sure that's the intended effect, but I don't qualify this as a valuable way of spending my time. If you're in for good ol' shock value, then you're in the right screening. Just don't expect too much depth, despite what the director believes he's bringing to the equation.

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Erland Josephson died

via WashingtonPost

One of Ingmar Bergman's frequent alums died February 25th at 88. He was in many of Bergman's greatest films, but his performance in Scenes from a marriage and its sequel Saraband, an astutely observed masterful series on intimate relationship, stands tall with time as one of Erland's most intricate, devastating achievements - and my favourite. A career well built, Erland. R.I.P.

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VIFF 2011: Week 3 - You're not ready for pop. (The kid with a bike, Artist, Alps, Michael, Martha Marcy May Marlene)

Round up reviews of films I've seen at the Vancouver International Film Festival week 3, in order of preference/impact:

1. Le Gamin au vélo (The kid with a bike) (Dardene & Dardene | Belgium)

Impression: VIFF announced the People's Choice today, and if it wasn't for the fact that the Dardene brothers' feature was screened just last night, I'd think that it would've given the eventual winner a pretty good run for its money, judging from the crowd reaction. I distinctly heard a "woot!" and there were tears flowing around me. The moment Cyril (played with so much angst and sweetness by Thomas Doret) unexpectedly clutched for dear life onto Samantha, there was no doubt he got her complete attention, and the audience's (mine) in turn. The child abandonment story tugged at the heart with such ease, no manipulative strings attached could be seen or cared to be found. It was sweet, without the saccharine, tough without the embellishment, and heartbreaking without the melodrama. There was a long, silent, beautiful sequence of him riding a bike after a particularly crushing turn of event that showed off both his incredibly exact performance and the Dardene brothers' master direction. I'm not one to have maternal feelings, but this boy's transparent yearning gave my ovaries a good squeeze.

Reaction: So that's what a maternal feeling is like.

2. The Artist (Hazanavicius| France)

Impression: With The Artist, Hazanavicius made a loving tribute to the silent era in the same zesty, playful manner as many of the era's films. While it ridiculed the arrogance of its silent stars, it also paid respect to the inventiveness and the heart of many artists that drove the industry. The use of sound was clever in a way that really highlighted the shock and awe of its introduction to the screen. The audience ate this up; I could see this film going a long way at the Oscars.

Reaction: How come it took us this long to have this movie made? I want that dog! So. Bad.

3. Alps (Lanthimos| Greece)

Impression: Going to see the film with no prior knowledge of what it was about really added to the uncertain feeling of what was happening to its characters. Alps focused on a group of unlikely grief performers, taking on the role of the departed as family members tried to come to terms of the baggage left behind. There are performances within performances, and after a while, I started to wonder if the real thing was just a performance. The absurdity and odd humourous moments didn't negate the sad state everything was weighed down by. I don't know how this compares to Dogtooth, the director's previously acclaimed film (and surprising Academy Awards Foreign Film nominnee), but it makes me all the more interested in what else he has to offer.

Reaction: Prince is alive! Prince is alive? He is!

4. Michael (Schleinzer| Austria)

Impression: While I was curious about the comparison the film's director had been drawn to Haneke, I was worried about how it was going to turn out, given the delicate nature of child exploitation. Would the young actor be introduced unnecessarily to the reality of pedophilia? How would they handle the sensitive scenes? It's one thing to have adults acting out a scripted horror; it's another to have a kid exposed to such horror, even in pretense. Other than one shocking scene played out in a humourous tone that nevertheless was quite terrifying, the film for the most part spared its audience its most tragic scenes, opting instead to hint at them with pre- and post-preparation by Michael, the unknown sickness that dwell amongst everyday people. Following the modern European clinical, matter of fact aesthetics to approach difficult, dark social underbelly subject matter, the film made no attempt at a cause and effect explanation of what made Michael Michael - he had a presumably loving family (a mother and a sister who cared enough to cry over him, at least), a successful career (he prided himself over not being "one of the four" who'd lose his job in this tough economic time), and a hint of a precocious mind (he purportedly made way for Christmas right after Easter as a child because he was "impatient"). There was something unsettling about him though - one got a sense that his meticulous and methodical way of ordering his everyday activities belied a rigid, contemptuous, deeply insecure boy who never developed a true adult connection with the world. I can't imagine playing a pedophile to be all that easy, but Michael Fuith did an incredible job of acting the part, looking both ordinary and creepy. I can't look at that face the same way again. Sorry, Michael.

Reaction: I can't watch.

5. Martha Marcy May Marlene (Durkin| U.S.A.)

Impression: MMMM had a dream-like flow about it, which was rather typical of an indie flick. The titular character's daze coloured all that we could see. "I know who I am," she said with a slight quiver. Her mouthful of a name pointed out the contrary though - she was as lost as lost can be. She was neither a teacher nor a leader, a dream whispered to her by John Hawkes' cult leader in an attempt to lure the directionless youth into giving herself over to a promised defined, pure life. One could see how the haves - in their glass house and suppressed guilt and hatred - could be held up as a reason not to be for the have nots. It makes seductive the counterpoint lifestyle for those looking to be held in something they could feel with their hands. Martha spouted the same values those with high morales might even line themselves up with, but she parroted them like one would a school lesson. She was but a mouthpiece for the discontent, no more authentic and loving than the world she ran away from. Durkin made an interest point of allowing her two worlds to collide so seamlessly, despite the stark contrast (one that was hinted at as a possible danger with the consequence of one bump in the night with her fellow "housemates"). The only way one could tell the past from the present was the people occupying the scene - cinematically, they were all the same. She was a beautiful vessel (her beauty was commented a few times in the film) for the two sides to impose their will on, not unlike what various groups try to do with our youth. In some ways, the film showed how powerful the desire to belong can be, and that same desire could lead us down a rabbit hole we may not come back from. Unfortunately, the characters felt quite derivative, and Olsen felt a bit too Maggie Gyllenhaal at times even in her manner. It was a solid film, but no greatness here.

Reaction: Wow, Elizabeth Olsen is like a cross between the Olsen twins and Maggie Gyllenhaal. Death is love? *rolls eyes*

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VIFF 2011: Week 2 - What's wrong is wrong (A separation, Havre, Sleeping Beauty, Ms Bala, Anatolia, Footnote,Like Crazy, Starbuck, Elena, Turin Horse)

Round up reviews of films I've seen at the Vancouver International Film Festival week 2, in order of preference/impact:

1. Jodái-e Náder az Simin (A separation) (Farhadi | Iran)

Impression: Iran's official entry for Foreign Film Oscar is a sophisticated, nuanced, meaningful portrait of Iran as it wrestles class, religion, gender, and the wheel of modernity in the frontier of its people's home. For an involving, intricate plot, there's barely any excess fat in the film to speak of. Every single character occupying the screen is an empathetic human being - there's no stereotype to be found, not even the usual dictatorial male figure in this deeply patriarchal society. It warmed my heart to see loving, respectful parenting figures in films, however flawed they were in other ways. The cast clearly infused their story with much pride and a deep knowing of their existential condition. There's no easy solution; the struggle between living the truth out loud and managing delicate human relationships can only be negotiated one step at a time. Farhadi captured its subtlety and drama with equal ease and wisdom. This is a rare family drama that works. I know what I'm rooting for comes Oscar time.
Reaction: What beautiful children.

2. Le Havre (Kaurismäki | France / Finland)

Impression: The set up of Le Havre, a stylized retro comedy of sort, was quite ridiculous: a shoe shiner in Normandy went on a mission to help a young refugee avoid being captured by the government and reconnect with his mother in London. It was more whimsical than serious, though there was enough humanity behind the film for us to care. Sometimes, a film is a romanticized version of a dream of a true emotion. This was such a film, and gosh darn what an absolute delight it was.
Reaction: Man, I love this movie.

3. Sleeping Beauty (Leigh | Australia)

Impression: Sleeping beauty is an austere, gorgeously shot fable about, on a literal level, a smart, young girl getting paid to go to sleep while her clients did what they had come for, and on a figurative level, a smart, young girl walk-sleeping her life away. "Sarah" turned herself into an object to be used by others in seemingly endless fashion, from science experiment to server to sex work. Her beauty was her calling card, and she used it like everyone else does: a functional object to act upon (she corrected the woman who would be her pimp that her "vagina is [her] vagina" and not a temple). No one was home; no one was interested. Her only human connection, beyond the veneer of manners, was with the Birdman, whom she would at times enact domestic scenarios with. Gradually, our girl began to take a vested interest in what was happening to her. The revelation was not exactly what she had in mind, and it only enforced the barren life she'd chosen for herself. The film ended at the moment of her realization, and it was a powerful punch of a scene to leave the audience with. And on that note, ladies and gentlemen, Julia Leigh has arrived.
Reaction: Is she serious? Only one rule? I can think of a million things that you'd want to put in that rule book and I have only seen one scenario!

4. Miss Bala (Naranjo | Mexico)

Impression: Mexico's drug war has become a breeding ground for crimes and corruptions. Naranjo anchored his pessimistic observations and damning critiques of the whole bloody affair to Laura, an aspiring contestant in a beauty pageant caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Much like a beauty pageant, the war on drug is a loud, glittery show that masquerades a seedy, ugly underbelly of humanity. The contestants are swallowed in the flow of power and money. The system is rigged - it can crown you a beauty queen one evening and throw you under a bus the next, and no one would bat an eye. Poor Laura's only trying to survive under fire, as she bends to the will and whims of the criminals and the government that fails to protect her. Along the way, she tries to find moments of grace, but they are so ever fleeting. Will the good people take a stand? We keep hoping, but does it matter an ounce if it's all just show and tell?
Reaction: Girl, DO SOMETHING!

5. Bir Zamanlar Anadolu'da (Once upon a time in Anatolia) (Ceylan | Turkey)

Impression: I should've taken a hint from the title that Anatolia would be like a bedtime story, with emphasis on it being a story to be told before falling asleep. I went to see it at the end of a very long day, and I did not realize what a bad idea it was until half an hour into the film or so, when I started to drift away in the middle of yet another false body-ID alarm in the dark of the night. Once they hit daylight, however, the sleepiness lifted and I was able to enjoy the film for what it was: a procedural film about truth and discretion, and the shortcomings of a very human system. There were a number of laugh out loud and cringey moments having to do with police and hospital set up. It was a contemplative tragicomedy worth seeing, just not at the end of a very long day.
Reaction: Let there be light!

6. He'arat Shulayim (Footnote) (Cedar | Israel)

Impression: Footnote was a comedy about the fierce competition between intellectuals trying to survive in a world where they want to matter most: the archives of academic history. At its center was an elitist father who spent his life obsessing with the minutiae of Isreali's Talmud writings that he never got around to publish on time, when it mattered. His successful son's fortune exceeded his, and he grew envious of the son's achievements. Meanwhile, the son secretly idolized his father and did his utmost to realize his father's dream of winning the Israeli Prize. His father, blinded by resentment, arrogance and a dogmatic approach to their shared passion, proceeded to sabotage his only fan's effort. Cedar made a very charming Jewish intellectual comedy with Footnote, though it may have been a little on the light side.
Reaction: But isn't that what people have children for? To achieve what they can't in their life time?

7. Like Crazy (Doremus | U.S.A.)

Impression: Like Crazy explored gently the meaning of "can't live with you, can't live without you." A story about an encompassing connection between two people over time and space should've hit a home run with me, but it hit me a lot less than I thought it would. While Anton was sweet and Felicity's teeth were charming, their love was ultimately too precious and thin to make much of an impact. It wasn't particularly compelling, even if it got something worthwhile to say about the unpredictable course of chemistry and how a connection is inherently born between two people in their particular context. Some people are lucky enough to have plenty of meaningful, enveloping connections throughout their life, be it with the same or different partner. Some people don't find or know any at all. And then there are those who spend their lives trying to recapture the magic that came so easy at one time, only to find out that - like the first heroin high - it can not be experienced again, even with the same person. The cast tried their best to lend some heft to the story, and Doremus made an effort to frame them in a nostalgic, intimate postcard hue. Still, it felt a little too cute to warrant more than a cup of tears (tears are how I measure all love stories).
Reaction: *sniffle* when Anton broke up with Jennifer Lawrence. That felt real.

8. Starbuck (Scott | Canada)

Impression: A harmless feel-good Canadian comedy about what you make of a family. It was a true crowd-pleaser so I'm not surprised it was a runner up at TIFF. There's really not much else to write home about though.
Reaction: Oh no, not another emo running joke. But that's kinda sweet.

9. Elena (Zvyagintsev | Russia)

Impression: So, Zvyagintsev's The Return was really good. His new film Elena, Cannes' Special Jury Prize winner, came with high expectation as a consequence. While the film was well made, its principles were a crapshoot of unlikable people going about their life focusing solely on what they could take or feel entitled to. Other than the stark contrast between the lifestyles of the rich and the poor, there was not much that separated the interiors of their life. Elena was the conduit between the haves and have-nots, and the film almost in a cannibalistic way ate up its own titular character. She was an example of someone who didn't think her own crap stink, as she hopped on the high horse when it came to chiding her husband's rebellious daughter, but turned a blind eye to her own moral compromises. There was no sympathy for any class, and unfortunately, that didn't make the film a compelling story one would want to visit again.
Reaction: Gosh darn I want some sliding doors. I really don't like this character. At all.

10. A torinói ló (The Turin Horse) (Tarr | Hungary)

Impression: I wanted a Bela Tarr experience at the theatre, especially since it was going to be his last film. Sometimes, though, things sound better on paper than in real life. The film started out really promisingly, with a prologue explaining how this was the story of what happened to the farmer and the horse that came at a pivotal point in Nietzsche's life. The image of the poor horse trudging along to foreboding music was quite stark and beautiful. However, the harsh, repetitive, poor-in-every-way life of a doomed father and daughter pair (and their dying horse) told in excruciating, laborous details wasn't really something I prepared to spend 3 hours experiencing, however well photographed it was. I spent most of the film actively making up stories about people on screen in order to stay interested and awake. The film had somewhat of a punch line; I just wished it came an hour or two earlier.
Reaction: Ah, more potato munching. From a different angle. Very well. Why doesn't she have it with salt like her dad? Is she protesting? Such a rebel. Who does she look like? She looks like somebody. Shirley Duvall? Hm.

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VIFF 2011: Week 1 - Life has a big gap in it. You don't try to fill it like a fvking lunatic. (Taiga, Waltz, Mir, Tyrannosaur, Top floor, Skin)

Round up reviews of films I've seen at the Vancouver International Film Festival week 1, in order of preference/impact:

1. Happy People: A Year in the Taiga (Herzog | Germany/Russia)

Impression: Werner Herzog's abiding interest - human's connection to nature - was once again given the grand stage by way of the vast, beautiful, harsh Siberian Taiga landscape. Propelled along its seasons by the ever charming (if not heavy-handed at times) Herzogian narration, Vasyokov's documentary (edited by Herzog) on the Bakhtin villagers explored the mythical one-man-and-his-dog-versus-the-universe story in all its glory. Although Herzog would like you to believe that our central character - a wise, renaissance man of sort in the form of a seasoned trapper - epitomized the complete self-reliance of ancient "cave men," his snowmobile, riffle, and a supporting cast of women and children at home would beg to differ. In spite of its romanticism, the film worked as a compelling study of tradition's last frontier.

Reaction: "I want to make that canoe. Right now."

2. Take this Waltz (Polley | Canada)

Impression: There could be very good reasons for you to find Waltz intolerable: its set up was precious, its characters were all a twee bit self-absorbed, and it tread the familiar territory of the ambiguous heart's affairs (Blue Valentine worked in the same vein). Yet, Sarah Polley dotted her Is and crossed her Ts so meticulously and patiently that the film - viewed in an uncertain frame of mind - could gently break your heart, if you'd allow it. The title of this post came from a line in the film that was particularly telling of the direction Polley wanted to take her viewers (the irony of the line spoken by Silverman's character is that it was exactly what she was doing). This was about the heart making decisions in a cloud of unknowns, or as Polley put it: “I wanted to make a film about desire, not a philosophical essay, but to be inside of it, to feel how delicious it is, and how difficult it is for us, as human beings, to either turn our backs on that sensation or to live with the primal gap it creates, one that needs to be fulfilled. I wanted to show the process of someone trying to escape that essential state of being and how it doesn’t always work." The cast felt lived in, with Michelle Williams continuing her impressive acting streak. The two comedic actors (and inspired choices) - Seth Rogen and Sarah Silverman - gave their rather unexpected best work here. As the icing on the cake, my home city Toronto never looked better in film as a character on its own.

Reaction: "I need to stop crying. It's only a movie. I need to stop. "

3. The boy Mir: 10 years in Afghanistan (Grabsky | UK)

Impression: Grabsky followed an eight year-old Afghan boy named Mir for one year in 2001, with the hope of capturing "an ordinary life in an extraordinary time." Rather than stopping after one year, he continued to follow Mir for another 10 years, hoping to document the rise of Afghan people along with him. It was a difficult and beautiful, depressing and uplifting picture of an irrepressible spirit, struggling to grow and live on a land people only knew how to fight over and not be responsible for any of it.

Reaction: "That boy never stopped smiling!"

4. Tyrannosaur (Considine | UK)

Impression: If there was a painting suitable for this film, it's Wilhem Freddie's depressing, crushing La Priere (The prayer). Tyranonosaur told a story of two strangers taking turns comforting each other in time of great spiritual needs. While it didn't seem so at first, with one being a drunken angry old man prone to violent outbursts and the other being a married woman of faith, they shared a common beast named anger. It was the kind born from a deep pain accumulated over years of taking it all in stride, hoping that there was a greater purpose for all the suffering, only to realize that even if there was, the damage was done. There was no undoing, only temporary comfort in those offering shelters along the way. As such, the film relied on its small, intimate cast for the emotional heft to override the obviousness, and it got that in spades.

Reaction: "This is not a morning movie."

5. Dernier étage gauche gauche (Top floor, Left Wing, Cianci | France)

Impression: A classic comedy of errors in some ways, Cianci's whimsical, political hostage-taking thriller moved along splendidly like a thriller should, even as it weaved in and out of a couple of family dramas on the way.

Reaction: "Who'd throw a fridge, honestly?"

6. La piel que habito (The skin I live in, Almodóvar | Spain)

Impression: The best way I could describe Almodóvar's latest venture is that it's a horror melodrama, one that paints a very perverse and clinical portrait of sexual violence. Bandaras played a surgeon cum research scientist on skin transplant, who conducted unethical surgeries and experiments in his own lavish, modern lair. While the twist was quite disturbing, the storyline became predictable half way through and it fizzed out like a typical soap opera. As a picture I looked forward to the most at the festival, it disappointed under the weight of expectation. Nevertheless, it was pretty enough to entice me along the way for the most part.

Reaction: "That can't be a good idea."

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Che (Soderbergh, 2009): Burying an icon

Title: Che
Director: Steven Soderbergh
Language: Spanish, English
Year: 2009 (Canada), 2008 (U.S.)
Critical Reception: J. Hoberman gave an admiring review.
Psych Index: Social Relations
In Brief: An ambitious, drawn-out film that succeeded in making one feel very discouraged by the guerrilla life.

Comment (SPOILERS ALERT):
Che (Soderbergh, 2009) premiered this weekend in Canada, playing just two screens a day in Vancouver. Considering the notoriety of the subject, it might seem surprising that it wasn't a wider release. When I got to the theatre, however, having read nothing about the film's release format, I was surprised to learn that it was a Special Roadshow Edition being shown. It meant that the film was broken into two parts, screened with a 15 minute intermission. I was game for it - when was the last time you saw a film with an intermission? For a film geek, that's a treat rather than a deterrent. Besides, Soderbergh's treatment of such a controversial figure, one that I knew very little about, was enticing enough for me. It was going to be a special film. Or at the very least, it was going to have to be an ambitiously grand film, and I figured it'd need all the audience it could entice for it to survive.

It was a grand film alright - in temporal sense of the word. Che was a grueling procedural film about the grueling time of a guerrilla icon. Altogether, one needs to invest about 5 hours of one's life committed to experiencing the film. And experiencing it, one must - Soderbergh made sure of that, declaring his intention of making the film "a procedural about guerrilla warfare." This procedural love of his has always threatened to be the most frustrating aspect of Soderbergh's filmaking; it sank his Ocean's Thirteen film (and the series). Here, one has to wonder if there's enough justification for a large chunk of the film. When art attempts to imitate life exactly as it is, the end may not justify the means, and the sum may not be greater than the details leading up to it. I once attended a play about Time. It was a greatly frustrating play, as a big chunk of it was spent on making the audience feel time passing by, with actors doing nothing but arranging rocks and playing with sand randomly and slowly on stage. I got the message and I never wanted to be subjected to the messenger again. Unfortunately, this was how I felt about Che.

There is a place for procedural films in cinema. The most successful one that comes to mind is Luc Bresson's Un condamné à mort s'est échappé ou Le vent souffle où il veut (A man escaped, 1956). A large part of success for A Man Escaped was in the tension and the atmosphere created by the framing of the film. It also helped that there was investment in the outcome of the film, one that was rewarded after an hour and a half of actual film time. Four-hour plus running time of Che was not very conducive to the success of a procedural film. If there was any ounce of excitement or glamour in a guerrilla life, Soderbergh killed it with the second half of Che. Perhaps that was the point - guerrilla warfare is no hike in the park, kids. However, it did not make for particularly rewarding cinema. There was little that was moving forward; most of the second half of the film was spent meandering about in small, repetitive steps. It was almost-dead cinema at times, complete with the choice of drained-out colour to go with the long and tiring day-in-the-life of a guerrilla.

There is also definitely a place in cinema for experiential films, those that attempt to give the audience the actual experience being depicted in the film. In recent years, the Austrian/German auteur, Michael Haneke, has been particularly successful in mirroring the characters' experience with the audience's, blurring the line between spectators and participants (see Caché, his best film to date). It's a worthwhile experiment, and experimenting is one way to ensure growth of an art form. It was a double edge sword for this film, however. On paper, it would seem ingenious to give the world a sense of what it was like living Che's life. It succeeded on this front, if one was to believe the joylessness of his raison d'être. For the most part, one had the feeling that his life was a cold, bloody intellectual pursuit of communal ideals at the cost of reasonable doubts. Certainly there were small moments of human affection, mostly from the first half of the film. Experiential films are most powerful and/or interesting when the experience depicted was itself powerful and/or interesting. When half of the film was spent going nowhere, one may start to look for interesting pockets in between. Look at the trees! Exotic animals! Someone pees a message! Striking images! Something cinematically interesting happens, please! No? Oh, someone felt insulted by being called a ventriloquist! That was probably the most happening scene in thirty minutes leading up to it.

The decision to combine the experiential with the procedural in this case gave us the head scratching experience that was Che. Matter-of-fact depiction of a highly charged figure may have been an interesting approach, but I can't help but feel that it was a counter productive one. Che was a symbol of the people at some point, and this was no film for the people. There was an interesting experimental film here, but it was buried by the need to draw every single line of Che's life (in this period) with no sense of economy. For all the details going into making the film feel authentic, there was little of Che to be abstracted from the film. Perhaps we were not meant to understand what drove him, other than what was stated by the man himself (belief 'in humanity' and the need to deliver justice to the poor people). His success and failure were very clearly contrasted by the two parts of the film. It was interesting watching how his ideals unfolded under different circumstances (which he thought were the same, obviously) with drastically different results. His failure indeed illustrated a lesson to be had, as he predicted, though perhaps not in the way he anticipated. Che did not account for the multitude of factors other than just poor conditions for people to really throw their hats in the ring; you can't simply will a revolution for the people without their consent.

I admire the ambition of the film and the sheer audacity of the film's release format - 4-hour plus historical war epic screened in one sitting with a 15-minute intermission is a lot to ask of the modern blockbuster-fawning, short attention-span audience. Soderbergh wanted to open Che up to the world, turning him into more than just a face on a T-shirt. He succeeded in nailing the coffin of Che's cause, while simultaneously generously praising the man. Perhaps Che was meant to be a labourous war film about a highly charged political figure that remained elusive as a full-fledged man. Without a proper understanding of the man, his motivations and needs, however, he remained a T-shirt symbol to me, whatever that symbol may be.

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Drag me to hell (Raimi, 2009): A modern woman dragged to hell

Title: Drag me to hell
Director: Sam Raimi
Language: English
Year: 2009
Critical Reception: Metacritic rating of 83, Rating of 100% from Wall Street Journal's Joe Morgenstern, 90% from Salon's Stephanie Zacharek, 80% from the Village Voice's Nick Pinkerton
Psych Index: Gender role
In Brief:Being a modern woman is never quite completely good and moral as often demanded of characters in horror films, and it is rare that a film existing in fantasy would be inspiring with its choice of such a realistic (or at least close to being as such) lead. The filmmakers may have been overly critical of this particular modern woman, but in doing so, they made her one of the most fascinating and complex leads to watch in a genre that’s not particularly known for depth. In turn, she made the film surprisingly more substantial and interesting than all the fun gags could reveal.

Comment (SPOILERS ALERT):
Drag Me To Hell (Raimi, 2009) opened as a counter-programming film to Disney/Pixar’s Up. For a horror film, especially considering the current crop of films in that genre, its PG-13 rating seemed a little suspect. How can a good horror film have anything less than a presumably envelop-pushing R-rating? What of violence and nudity that make up most of the genre? By the time our heroin, Christine Brown (Alison Lohman), engaged in her first battle with the woman who would be placing a curse upon her (Mrs. Ganush, played with ferocity and a sense of fun by Lorna Raver), it was clear that what the film may lack in nudity and gore, it made up for it in humour and over-the-top grossed out goobs.

To be sure, there was not much here in term of plot (as expected in the genre): Christine was a loan officer who, in an attempt to prove her worthiness to her boss, made a decision to shelf away compassion (or was it really guilt?) and deny an old gypsy woman of another chance to live out the rest of her life in comfort and dignity. As an act of vengeance against what she saw as a deliberate attempt to shame her, Mrs. Ganush, after an outrageously funny and suspenseful cat fight with Christine, placed a wretched curse upon her. Christine then met with a psychic, Rham Jas (Dileep Rao) who was not only knowledgeable of the curse but also knew of whom she should ask for help from – at a negotiated price of the cold cash variety. Much haunting ensued within the three days that Chrsitine had left to prevent having her soul dragged to hell by an invisible Lamia. Of course, there was also a twist ending (that we could see miles away, but it was deliciously satisfying, nevertheless), and its conclusion underlined a strong moral statement the film seemed to take a vested interest in.

The Raimi brothers knew how to imbue their picture with a sense of humour while remaining true to the traditions of the genre. This difficult balance – winking while running on adrenaline – played itself out not only with the way the picture was filmed (music, gags, cheesy lines and sound effects were in full force, intermittently interrupted by the still scenes and slow tracking shots) but also in our heroin, Christine. Women are one of horror’s favourite subjects – most of the genre could be argued to have been built on the strength of women’s thighs and other close-by regions. If the central character happened to be of the female variety, she would be expected to have the audience’s sympathy at least by the end of the film. Our horrified heroin is often violated against in some manners, and she would often have the higher moral ground compared to our villain(ess). In Christine, the Raimi brothers threw in their best twist and most biting comment in the film yet.

Christine was very much a picture of a modern woman, a determined social climber who, on sheer will and smarts, had gone from a chubby pork queen of a farm girl to a candidate for an assistant manager at a bank, with a young and devoted professor of psychology as her boyfriend (his name, Clay, suggested a certain boring malleability though – Justin Long was perfectly cast for once). In her first fight with Mrs. Ganush, after locking down her car windows and watching the old woman flail seemingly helplessly against the glass, she yelped victoriously from inside the car: “I BEAT you!” She was eager for self-congratulations throughout the film – she wanted so badly to beat the odds that she would prematurely celebrate any inroads. There was a certain glee in her tenaciousness and willingness to go the necessary distance to survive. No doubt in her mind she was a worthwhile heroin who would overcome and rise above life obstacles. The events that unfolded would show her to not be completely in sync with what she would like to think of herself, however.

In the course of the film, Christine painted herself – in words, mostly - to be a compassionate, grateful woman: she professed to be a vegetarian who loved animals (see how that fared out in the film), she confessed her wrong-doings to her safety net of a boyfriend (to which he replied ‘you’re such a good heart’), she acknowledged her background (Clay’s mother found her admittance to be a sign of a backbone, when it could be interpreted as another instance of her blaming others for her troubles) and she showed hesitation in both times she had to make a difficult moral decision (at first, with Mrs. Ganush, and later, with the handling of the cursed button). However, her good deeds seemed to stem from either guilt (her name, Christine, was a bit of a giveaway) or self-interest (survival), as would be the case for most ordinary human beings.

In the relative calm of an ordinary life, it was easy for her to be a good Christian. After all, it’s easier for most of us to be good citizens when the structure is there to encourage moral acts: presence of a recycling bin would encourage more recycling at a given location, for example. It’s easier to give away millions when you earn trillions. When you have all the time in the world to drive home, allowing someone to bud in a busy traffic line may not be such a big deal. If Christine was not in the position to climb the corporate ladder, she may have given Mrs. Ganush the extension she needed. When the rugs were pulled out from under her, however, Christine looked to use any shield she could find; on more than one occasion, upon being accused of committing an amoral act, she insisted that her boss was the one who started everything (he was, indeed, as part of the system that enabled her action, but the ultimate decision was hers to make). She let others put themselves at risk for her. To her credit, she showed herself to be a woman of some principle – another person may not have hesitated as much as she did with her decisions, and may not have thought twice about the fate of the cursed button. Guilt sometimes can inspire such great moral acts.

As a modern woman, she also showed much self-reliance and resourcefulness. Even when she was cornered, she either did not rely on help from her man (her pawning everything she owned to help herself was touching and surprising), or was left by chance (fate?) to fend for herself (the phone call would not come through). In some ways, sadly, she was all the defense she had, but being alone did not make her a special case. Rham Jas referred to Christine once as an “insignificant” person, and it deflated the sense of self-importance some social climbers have of themselves. In the context of a horror genre, it was unusual to have a protagonist not be specifically ‘chosen’ for a role. When ordinary characters are cast, they would often be given opportunities to do extraordinary things. This would have been an easy way for the audience to feel good about themselves and their fellow beings – who doesn’t want to be inspired? The fact that Christine was not a special case made her special in the larger context, ironically. Unfortunately for Christine, being ordinary did not do her any favours when it came to dealing with the extraordinary. The events in the film seemed to also point to true morality revealing itself only in the heat of fire, and that some of the people who would not live up to this test (that would be most of us) may (or should?) not get away with their slip on the moral compass.

Because of these complexities, Christine inadvertently became more interesting and unusual in the context of the genre: the audience may find themselves feeling ambivalence towards her fate, as she would gain and lose sympathy, sometimes within a few frames (Lohman was superb at embodying these shades of grey). Being a modern woman is never quite completely good and moral as often demanded of characters in horror films, and it is rare that a film existing in fantasy would be inspiring with its choice of such a realistic (or at least close to being as such) lead. The filmmakers may have been overly critical of this particular modern woman, but in doing so, they made her one of the most fascinating and complex leads to watch in a genre that’s not particularly known for depth. In turn, she made the film surprisingly more substantial and interesting than all the fun gags could reveal.
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The Dark Knight: A probability game or a morality tale?

Title: Batman: The Dark Knight
Director: Christopher Nolan
Language: English
Year: 2008
Critical Reception: Metacritic rating of 82
Psych Index: Social Psychology, Milgram's Experiment on Obedience, Evolutionary psychology
In Brief: Batman (Christian Bale) is on his way to be mythologized as the dark knight in his pursuit of a manic, psychotic serial killer who goes by the name of Joker (Heath Ledger). The city's righteous people (lead by Lt. Gordon, played by Gary Oldman, and an idealistic politician Harvey Dent, portrayed by Aaron Eckhart) try to prosecute all criminals related to the mobs in Gotham city. Batman, a. k. a. billionaire Bruce Wayne, shares a common love interest (Rachel Dawes, portrayed by Maggie Gyllenhaal) with Harvey, though he would rather see Harvey succeed him in his 'work' life as the hero of Gotham instead of his love life. It seems like the Joker does not have much of a clear motivation for Batman to take advantage of, and it drives our hero to the edge of his own moral box. There may be a method to his madness yet.

Comment (SPOILERS ALERT):
Stanley Milgram conducted a series of experiment in the 1960s (Milgram, 1963) to investigate the extent to which ordinary citizens can forgo human compassion in the name of obedience. In this landmark psychological study, participants were told to give increasingly severe shocks to another person in another room (who was part of the research design). More than half of the participants administered the highest shocks on the generator, despite agonizing screams heard from the next room (you can check out the video here). The authors concluded that under the right circumstances, ordinary citizens can commit acts that could be construed as inhumane, a possible explanation for the behaviour of ordinary folks who sold out their Jewish neighbours during World War II. The study was not without controversies concerning both its method and ethics. Regardless, it served as a startling reminder of human capacity for cruelty when the context or social structure facilitated its process.

The Dark Knight's morality tale rests on a social experiment in similar vein, crudely conducted by its villain, The Joker (Heath Ledger). Despite his claim of being a non-schemer, his experiment is too deliberate and well thought-out to not be construed as a scheme. As often is the case with mythological moral plays, the dichotomy of good versus evil in the film is painted in broad, black and white strokes, with emphasis on symbols rather than literals. Even though the film clearly intends for Batman and The Joker to share more commonalities with each other in a post-modern effort to connect the two opposing sides, these two characters differ significantly in their view of humanity. Bruce Wayne (a. k. a. Batman, a, k. a. The Dark Knight - you know you're a mythical figure when you take on as many names as your multiple persona would allow) views humanity as basically compassionate and good, whereas the Joker sees people's true identity to be that of cowards who could be easily pushed to do 'uncivilized' acts out of selfish survival instinct.

The apex of the film's moral play culminates in the sequence at the end in which a boat full of criminals is pitched against a boat full of upstanding citizens. Each is given a choice to eliminate the other to survive. This dilemma is used as an artificial restriction to induce decisions that would then be ascribed to our basic human nature. While both Bruce Wayne and the Joker reach some rather simplistic conclusion about humanity, the Joker's betting hand may fare better in the game of probability. In Evolution Biology, altruism - defined as behaviour that benefits others at the cost to self - has been a puzzle all its own. To explain the evolutionary benefit of altruistic behaviour, Darwin (in The Descent of Man, published in 1871) in the early years believed that while an individual's altruistic behaviour may be disadvantageous on a personal level, it is perhaps evolutionary beneficial to the group (group selection). However, later on, Darwin would note the weakness of this group selection hypothesis: even if a group is composed exclusively of altruists behaving nicely towards each other, it only takes a single selfish mutant free-rider to bring an end to this idyllic existence. Considering the fact that the probability a selfish mutant will arise and spread is very high (due to the shorter individual's generation time compared to group's), the selfish tendency should soon dominate the group and out-live altruistic tendency.

Of course, kin selection (altruistic behaviour towards genetically similar individuals) would tip the balance of this trend. On a genetic level, an individual with genes that favour altruistic behaviour may behave altruistically towards individuals that approximate its genus in the immediate environment. Sometimes, this may result in altruistic behaviours towards neighbours rather than kins, since animals do not necessarily make conscious calculations to behave altruistically towards their kins. Furthermore, from Prisoner's Dilemma (game theory), it is predicted that individuals from different groups may still be altruistic towards each other, depending on their frequency of interaction and expectation of return benefits (the higher the interaction and expectation of return benefits, the more likely the altruistic behaviour is - this sets up beautifully for animals living in groups including humans).

In the film, these people on the two boats are, presumably, not related to one another directly. They may not expect to interact with or be the recipients of some return benefits from one another. It may make sense (according to the Prisoner's Dilemma game theory) for either boat to eliminate the other one, to take the first strike. However, humans are also ruled by things other than direct biological instinct (conscious thoughts and culture play a huge part in our own evolution). Moreover, we are not perfectly logical as a whole (psychological studies would tell you that we behave mostly via rules of thumb and deductions from past patterns), so it is possible that this may not be the first automatic choice. As seen in the film, the ordinary citizens take a democratic vote, and most vote for their own survival (the conscious, logical choice). Where the film takes a strange (from a psychological and biological point of view) turn is in the depiction of every last person refraining from acting on this logical choice. It is at once contrived and refreshing to have this much faith in groups' collective moral behaviour.

The Joker makes an astute observation that falls in line with group psychology concerning altruistic behaviour: people's 'good', noble, compassionate behaviour is facilitated by some predictable structure. When thrown under chaos, anxiety and most probably fear may lead people to engage in 'bad', cowering, self-interested behaviour - not in all cases, but the probability that someone in a group might behave as such is quite high, considering our diversity. The Joker obviously banks on the very real probability of just one individual to behave in such a way in chaos to draw conclusions about the defect of humanity. His premise / view of the world would then be affirmed, illogically, from a highly probable scenario (just because one person's selfish act can determine an outcome for a group does not mean the person represents the whole group - this biased mentality is unfortunately assumed by many individuals who would go on to terrorize groups based on some individuals' behaviour). Bruce Wayne, on the other hand, acts on his faith that nobody would try to survive at the cost of another, even in the face of the high probability that someone would. The fact that the film favours the hero's betting hand to make a point, even if there is an extremely low probability of such a scenario (nothing is completely, absolutely improbable), reduces the believability of the situation. It seems like such a strenuous stretch to make in order for this morality tale to work. The filmmaker does not seem to trust the rather logical conclusion that even if the outcome turns out to favour the Joker's bet, it does not mean he is right in his assumption about humanity. It may have been too complex to translate to the screen clearly and cleanly, but it would have been the more probable and logical conclusion.

It is unfortunate that in this morality tale, such broad strokes are made concerning human behaviour, reducing humans (or, more specifically, the mass) to a group of like-minded two-act individuals. Diversity and variability are perhaps too complicated to figure into a mythological tale (and this is, if nothing else, a story concerning mythology). Comments regarding chance and probability are muddled, even if their symbolic representation is as simple as a coin. Harvey Dent, the symbolic two-faced, pretends to allow chance - or fate - to play a role in his decisions. He controls his decisions, with or without an external force (the coin acts as the same external agent of pretend-fate, even when one of its side by chance changes its complexion). In the film, it is neither fate nor chance that determines outcomes, as Dent would try to convince others; it is all about our control imposed on external situations.

The film resembles something of a pseudo-intellectual exercise, though it is successful in appearing serious at its task. There is an elegance to how duplicity and dichotomy play out repeatedly in the film. Both Batman Begins and The Dark Knight films, on a meta level, cinematically reflect the villains that test its hero. The Dark Knight ultimately falls somewhere tonally alongside Two-faced character than either Batman or Joker, though it could be argued that this is essentially the product of these two latter characters' fusion. Unfortunately, Aaron Eckhart does not have the acting chops or right presence to convey a convincing transition (not that the script allows it). Maggie Gyllenhaal lacks chemistry with both her lovers; her portrayal of Rachel Dawes is simply too measured and understated for this hyped up tale. It does not help that the film calls for her to be nothing more than a plot device. Christian Bale is serviceable in his role, even though he is at times overshadowed by Heath Ledger's Joker. The late actor's performance benefits from the feel of the film, which is built around his manic, yet melancholic figure.

There are some rather beautiful shots and camera work (the Batman flight is quite exhilarating, as is the scene in which the Joker enjoys the air in silence while driving a police car). The tension is as taut as the string that takes down the police helicopter in the most exciting chase sequence in the film. However, there is not enough time allowed for the more dramatic moments to fully develop, thereby decreasing the emotional impact of the film. The fights leave much to be desired, though the action sequences are quite thrilling (it must be said that the bat two-wheel is the stuff bikers' dreams are made of). The film clearly aims to be taken seriously as a dramatic entry in the comics-turn-films genre; it fails to completely be convincing in depth, but it is still an admirable effort yet.

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References
Milgram, S. (1963). Behavioral study of obedience. Journal of abnormal and social psychology, 67(4), 371-378.

Thoughts in point form:
- View on humanity - good vs. evil
- Idea that people behave well when there's structure and when things are going according to plan
- lack of chemistry between lead actress and both Bale and Eckhart
- morality of the film rests on the two boats not blowing up - flimsy
- does not leave enough time for dramatic moments to sink in, thereby decreasing its emotional impact significantly

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Comparative Essay: Half Nelson and Requiem for a dream

Title: Half Nelson
Director: Ryan Fleck
Language: English
Year: 2006
Critical Reception: Ryan Gosling was nominated for an Oscars for best actor. Kudos from Chicago Reader's Jonathan Rosenbaum, Entertainment Weekly's Lisa Schwarzbaum, nominated for Grand Jury Prize (Dramatic) at the 2006 Sundance Film Festival
Psych Index: Addiction, DSM Disorders, Social relations
Synopsis: The film was based on an earlier short film made by Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck in 2004, “Gowanus, Brooklyn”. Fleck directed the screenplay he and Boden reworked for this American feature film on the unlikely friendship between an inner city teacher, Dan Dunn (Ryan Gosling) and his student, Drey (Shareeka Epps). His dedication to his students and his idealistic approach notwithstanding, Dan was secretly a drug addict barely holding it together to keep up with the routine and the demand of his job. When his nighttime habit bled into his daytime job, Dan was caught by the thirteen year old Drey in the school’s girls changing room, getting high. The two characters formed an awkward, but warm friendship that teetered on the dangerous territory of student-teacher extracurricular relationship.

Title: Requiem for a dream
Director: Darren Aronofsky
Language: English
Year: 2000
Critical Reception: Ellen Burstyn received a 2001 Oscar nomination for best actress. Kudos from the New York Times' A. O. Scott.
Psych Index: Addiction, DSM Disorders
Synopsis: Requiem for a Dream (Wikipedia) was based on a novel of the same name written by Hubert Selby, Jr. that was published in 1978. The story began in the summer, with Harry (Jared Leto) in his mother’s (Ellen Burstyn) old folks apartment trying to pawn the TV off so he could score some drugs for himself and his best friend, Tyrone C. Love (Marlon Wayans). Harry’s girlfriend, Marion Silver (Jennifer Conelly), was also a drug addict trying to divorce herself from her wealthy parents. Harry and Tyrone decided to support their drug habit and invest in their future by becoming drug dealers. Meanwhile, Sara received a call purported to be from a television company, claiming that she had won a guest spot on television. Excited with the possibility of becoming a guest on the infomercial program she often watched in her apartment, she began dieting in order to fit into her favourite red dress, the one she wore to Harry’s graduation. Failing to stop herself from thinking about food, she sought the help of a doctor who would prescribe her amphetamines to help her with the diet. As the seasons rolled by, what could go wrong in the lives of addicts did go wrong. The film, true to its title, was a requiem for dreams unrealized and lives ruined in the pursuit of these dreams.

Comment (SPOILERS ALERT):
There are few topics in cinema more popular than drugs and addiction. While there is no formal “drug” genre, the cinematic obsession with one of the darker sides of humanity certainly deserves its own subcategory (a list of drug films can be found on Wikipedia, the popular online encyclopedia; Wikipedia). Whether they are political commentaries or personal moral tales, films dealing with drugs and addiction provide a canvas upon which social problems that manifest themselves in the lives lead by the characters can be examined. Half Nelson (Corwin et al., 2006) and Requiem for a dream (Barenholtz, Flynn, Simchowitz, Weschler, & Aronofsky, 2000) are two of the major releases in recent years dealing with drug addiction. This essay will explore these two films in depth, and one character from each film will be analyzed through Individual Psychology lens.

While Requiem for a Dream focused on the reasons behind the lives lead by those inflicted with addiction and the dire consequences of their habit, Half Nelson was more concerned with the struggle to connect with others, to find a place for oneself in a world moved not by one person, but by various groups colliding and coexisting. I responded emotionally to both films, though I found Half Nelson to linger with me more after the film was over. I have the opportunity to interact with many individuals with addiction who would exhibit many of the problems portrayed in both films. The face rubbing, body twitching and anxious pacing body language exhibited by Ryan Gosling in Half Nelson looked authentic to me. I know someone who had to face the possibility of having his legs amputated due to the infection brought on by his multiple drug injections, much like what Harry had to actually go through in the film. The idea that these characters were just chasing a miscalculated dream complicated by the effects of their drugs made the situations depicted in Requiem seemed rather hopeless. Half Nelson, on the other hand, looked at those who are still hanging on to their place in the world. It was rather hopeful message that help could be found even in the most unexpected place.

Requiem, for the most part, was technically spectacular. Aronofsky gave the audience a taste of what the world would be like as perceived by drug addicts by using quick editing, split screens, distorted lens, and extreme close ups. Hallucinations were either lyrically beautiful in soft colour (when Harry dreamt of Marion on a look out into the ocean), or manically terrifying in jarringly lit rooms (when Sara hallucinated that her fridge was attacking her). The idea was to experience the lives of these characters to gain some perspective of what they were going through. The film was a culmination of what could potentially go wrong in the lives of addicts; the misfortunes piled upon these characters in a way that, though entirely plausible, was overkill. The helping professionals were shown to be either indifferent or harmful to the characters. Sara was given amphetamines and valium carelessly by a doctor, got committed against her will, and in a confused state signed a document that allowed the hospital to put her through electric shock. When Harry sought help in a hospital, the doctor called the police instead of treating his wound. His family members or loved ones could not help him, for they, too, were in the same spiral as he was. Each character was too busy filling up his or her needs to really have a mind to take care of each other, despite good intentions. The film could've benefited from a more balanced portrayal of the helping profession, and it would also have been a much better film if the second half wasn't filled with an assault of misfortunes.

Not every drug addict is on the streets or planning for his next meal like those depicted in Requiem. In Half Nelson, Dan had a stable job and a clean love interest. The depiction of drug use in Half Nelson was less aggressive and almost completely devoid of sensationalism. The camera stayed still for the most part, lingering in certain places, and speeding up with some close ups when Dan got high. Rather than going for hyper-realism like Requiem, Half Nelson stayed grounded with linear time and normal spatial perception. It gave the audience more of a spectator role than Requiem did. Curiously, there was no sign of any helping professional, or the justice system (with one exception of the scene where Drey went to visit her brother) having a direct impact on their lives, though the society in general made an impact on them on a larger, more historical sense.

Because of the racial focus of the film, one had the sense that the creators of the film wanted to de-criminalize the black community. African-Americans often are given loud, stereotypical roles to portray in films. Half Nelson featured an intelligent, empathic, introverted young black girl, struggling to keep herself out of trouble while connecting tenuously with the two men in her life, neither on the surface was a proper role model for her. Her brother appeared loving and loyal to his family and friends, even when he was deemed a criminal by the justice system. Most surprisingly, Frank, the one who introduced Drey to the world of drug dealing, was loving and respectful towards Drey. There was seemingly a network of people reaching out and looking out for each other, even as each struggled to keep her own head above the water. As a psychology student watching the film, however, I was at times unclear of what could have happened to bring about Dan’s self-destruction. I wish that the film had given a bit more background possibilities for Dan’s dependence on drugs.

From an Individual Psychology perspective, it was understandable that the two films ended up where they were. Community feeling – the sense of belonging to this world – is essential to mental health (Dreikurs, 2006). In Requiem, all four characters felt a need to feel whole by connecting with their loved ones, but they were impeded by their respective mistaken beliefs. Harry believed that the profit from dealing drugs would enable him to care for himself and his loved ones, not factoring in the destructive toll of the drugs he was using. Marion believed that she could find the love that she needed from her parents in Harry and the promises he made. Tyrone went from bad to worse deals, thinking that success was just waiting around the corner for him. Sara believed that the happiness she once felt with her family could be relived if she could fit into her dress and be celebrated by others. Because of the failed connections and the subsequent lack of community feeling, it was not surprising that they ended up isolated and broken people.

Half Nelson, on the other hand, portrayed a network of individuals reaching out for each other. Those working from Individual Psychology framework believe that humans are creative beings; we have the power to affect our future, even when circumstances may favour certain paths (Stone, 2006). The conditions surrounding the inner-city youth may have made it easy for people to get themselves into trouble with the law. Yet, each character in the film created his own consequences, coming up with ways to deviate ever so slightly from expectations. Drey could have become yet another bully, but she chose not to give into violence needlessly. Frank could have forced the vulnerable Drey into the darker roads of drug trafficking, but he allowed Drey the opportunity to get out. Dan made himself believe that his place was insignificant in the grand scheme of things as he slowly threw away his career to drugs. He made one positive decision to reach out for Drey, and that decision may have saved his life.

Both films were generally well received at the time of their respective releases. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences nominated Ellen Burstyn and Ryan Gosling for their respective roles (Wikipedia). The two films focused on very different aspects of drug addiction, with Requiem for a dream leaning more towards the experiential aspect and Half Nelson leaning more towards political and personal influences. The drug users in the two films also differed in their social status, with Dan (Half Nelson) representing the more upwardly mobile drug users and the characters in Requiem for a Dream representing the bottom-of-the-ladder users. Although the sum of the films was less than their parts, they were still well worth watching for their effective portrayal of the devastating effects of drug use.

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Reference
Dreikurs, R. (2006). An introduction to Individual Psychology. In S. Slavik & J. Carlson
(Eds.), Readings in the theory of Individual Psychology (pp. 45-72). New York: Routledge.
Stone, M. H. (2006). The creative self. In S. Slavik & J. Carlson (Eds.), Readings in the
theory of Individual Psychology (pp. 93-105). New York: Routledge.
Wikipedia. (n. d.). List of drug films. Retrieved February 8, 2008, from
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_drug_films.
Wikipedia. (n. d.). Half Nelson. (2006). Retrieved February 8, 2008, from
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Half_Nelson_(film).
Wikipedia. (n. d.). Requiem for a dream. (2000). Retrieved February 8, 2008, from
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Requiem_for_a_Dream.

Psychological Profiles:
To delve deeper into the Individual Psychology perspective, an psychological profile formulation could be made for one character from each film.

Dan was one of two children; it was not clear whether his brother was supposed to be younger or older. Based on Dan’s characteristics, he may have been the youngest brother who wanted to out compete others (Dreikurs, 2006). He expressed the disappointment that one person could not change the world. This may indicate that he may have had huge plans that never worked out, a characteristic of the youngest child (Dreikurs, 2006). He may have stayed a baby and be spoiled by his parents, as evident by the enmeshed interactions between them. His middle class parents seemed unaware of what their son was going through. His father was perhaps authoritarian, while his mother was likely submissive. Growing up, he may have endured some inconsistent parenting style. The indulgent parents (Dreikurs, 2006) may have created a suffocating atmosphere, resulting in him moving out and avoiding his mother’s calls. The family may have valued success in a respectable career as well as a stable finance. His father spoke rather judgmentally of African-American youth. However, he then apologized for it, suggesting an atmosphere of subtle intolerance towards difference. This may have driven him to seek alternative experience and to teach inner-city youth. He may have believed that men are dangerous and can not be trusted, just like his father. Women may seem to him over-bearing, family-oriented and forgiving like his mother. There does not seem to be a genetic possibility of mental issues in his family, except for perhaps his father’s hinted-at alcohol abuse (possible indication of addictive tendency). He grew up in a middle class family, thus having many opportunities opened to him. He had a steady, stable, stimulating job that he loved, friends that stuck with him in bad times, and a viable love interest whom he respected. Although some pieces of the puzzle seemed to not warrant a drug addiction problem, Dan may have turned to drugs to escape an intolerant, overbearing, success-driven family he grew up with.

Requiem’s Marion Silver also grew up with more money than she knew what to do with it. She seemed to have been the only child, having her needs taken care of by others and at the same time ruling them (Dreikurs, 2006). Her parents showered her with presents and privileges, with little regard for her actual needs. She may have grew up in a family where success was measured by how much money they had. As a child, she may have been at the receiving end of a cornucopia with goods endlessly pouring out. She grew up passive, bored, and discontent with this indulgence. She expected everything to come to her, as she demanded Harry to supply her with money and drugs. Her father may have been a provider, and she may have generalized it to all men as she continued to seek them out for support. Her mother may have used her appearance to get ahead in the world, and Marion may have believed that as a woman she could rely on her beauty to get what she needed. There was no indication of a genetic possibility for an addictive tendency. She had all the environmental opportunities available to her before she ran away from her parents. Marion seemed to have used drugs as a way to make her feel loved. Where life is difficult, the only child may show striking insufficiency (Dreikurs, 2006). It may have led her to further sell herself to support her habits.

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Le Samouraï (Melville, 1967): doomed tale of a romantic lone wolf

Title: Le Samourai
Director: Jean-Pierre Melville
Language: French
Year: 1967
Critical Reception: A Criterion release, with essay by David Thomson. Kudos from: Johnathan Rosenbaum, Roger Ebert. Rottentomatoes Cream of the Crop rating of 100% (6 reviews).
Psych Index: Existentialism, Narrative psychology
In Brief: Alain Delon played a lone hitman in Paris, who was paid to kill a man in a bar. He left a witness at the murdering scene, a pianist who later refused to complicate him in the murder when he was lined up as a suspect at the police quarter. The film moved along this thickening plot, and soon the wounded wolf found himself being closed in both by the police and the ones who paid him. The film examined the loner's mindscape, his extreme macho principles (or as he called it, "habits"), and the author Melville even claimed that his character was schizophrenic (hardly). It's an influential crime thriller that married American gangster noir with Japanese Samurai films' philosophy, inspiring numerous directors to follow (he left an indelible mark on John Woo's films, such as The Killer, A better tomorrow, and Hard Boiled.)

Comment (SPOILERS ALERT):
It started with an idea for an alibi. Melville, in an interview excerpt by Rui Nogueira for a book published in 1971 ("Melville on Melville"), said that he began writing the story of Le Samourai (1967) with the simple notion that "the only alibi you can really count on in life is one backed up by the woman who loves you." Melville also thought that he was committing to the screen the portrait of a schizophrenic. While the new wave director may have had some questionable notions regarding women and schizophrenics, the film nevertheless came through so assuredly a poetic work of one who had unquestionable control of his craft.

The establishing opening shot showed an austere looking room. The walls seemed to be drained of colour, and the only furniture in the place seemed to be a bed, a chair, a dresser, and a table with a bird cage on it. There was very little movement, saved for the bird's one-note chirping and a cloud of smoke hanging in the air. Outside, there were sounds of the rain and some vehicle zooming by, casting a shadow across the ceiling. There was a 'proverb' accompanying the scene: "There is no greater solitude than that of the samurai, unless it be that of the tiger in the jungle ... perhaps ... - The book of Bushido (Book of the Samurai)." Soon after, the music struck as the camera's depth perception changed, rather discordantly. The person on the bare bed got up, facing the double windows with perfect symmetrically drawn curtains. And the day began.

Jef Costello (Alain Delon)'s room seemed less like a home (he was fully clothed on his bare bed when he got up, as if this was just a run-down hotel room he rented for the night), and more like a head office, where he planned his day and did the bare necessary things to survive. The room, in psychoanalytic dream analysis, is but a representation of the person's psyche. The change in depth perception gave the impression of someone (us, the audience) adjusting to a character's world, one that was perhaps slightly on the disturbed side. It was not certain if Jef was inflicted with any mental disorders, but we knew, from the externalization of his psyche symbolized by the room, that he was disciplined, detail-oriented, minimalistic, socially isolated, and emotionally flat.

Judging from Jef's behaviour, it was unlikely that he was as his creator claimed: a schizophrenic killer. Schizophrenia is a condition characterized by impairments in reality perception, commonly manifesting in auditory hallucinations, paranoid or bizarre delusions, or disorganized speech and thinking that lead to significant social or occupational dysfunction. Jef was a meticulous and sharp individual who was capable of planning and carrying out murderous plots. He perceived the common reality with clarity, and it helped him elude those on this trail and figure out who wanted him dead. If we were not given the scene where the mobsters and the police planned their next move, one could possibly deduce that he was just having a persecution delusion. However, the actions were real, he was highly motivated, his speech was eloquent, his thinking was organized, and reality - although at times carried a heighten sense of poetry - was that he was a contract killer cut off from ordinary social life. One could argue his flat affect was a symptom of schizophrenia - but this was not entirely true either. He showed emotions towards the two women important to his life, however minimally. And when he was in a tight situation towards the end, he showed some exasperation that would not be characteristic of a flat affect person.

As it was, this was not a film about a schizophrenic killer. While it would be tempting (and probably not far fetched) to imagine that a contract killer must be afflicted with some sort of mental disorder, Jef Costello was just an extreme case of a very isolated, intelligent individual who rationalized that he must not be attached to anyone in order to be good at what he did.

The various themes of existentialism, narrative psychology principles, romantic macho beliefs, and Buddhist philosophy on attachment probably have more to do with the film than any mental disorders. Meville was a new wave director, and this film was distinctively new wave in style and substance, with new wave being a particular philosophical approach to film closest to existentialism. Jef created the world he lived and died in, as understood from an existential point of view. The picture was that of dread and isolation, two particularly existentialistic themes. Jef's social, physical and emotional isolation dramatized the existential belief that we are all alone in the world. There was, as noted by various critics, a death projectory to his life. The caged bird motif meant that only death could set it (and its owner) 'free'. Death, as personified perhaps by the pianist, seemed to be Jef's final destination - the chance meeting with her lead to a series of events culminating in his final bow in front of her. She was his final mark, and he was hers all along.

As a contract killer living in isolation from the 'normal' social world, he was afforded the excuse to say no to the need for human attachments (his 'girlfriend' who gave him the necessary alibi). He carried out his life according to what he reasoned it should be: he would not get involved with needs because that would interfere with his work, and it would bring troubles to those attached to him (he told the alibi girlfriend that he did not need her even though he clearly had feelings towards her, and that he would 'take care' of the troubles he brought to her). The story of a loner that he told himself enabled him to lead his life the way he wanted, and to be incredibly good at working as the lone assassin. Yet, he did not do all of his job by himself. The romanticizing of the samurai films' 'lone wolf' idea would lead him to believe he was virtually alone, when in reality, he had help from at least two individuals on a regular basis (the girl and the mechanic). He was not alone; he just bought into the idea that he was. Or, at least his creator did.

Even though he was a murderer, and conventional film plot dictated that the 'bad guy' be punished (Jef indeed carried within himself a death sentence, which he meant to carry out), his fate was not in his hands alone. A man may be doomed to uncertain fate of his own doing, but this fate lies at the feet of the women in his life - or so the film suggested, as both Jef's angel of death (the pianist) and guardian of life (the girlfriend) were female. The didactic portrayal of women in the film was in keeping with the straight male's fantasy of women being the be all or end all to their glorious journey in life, a particularly popular noir theme.

Le Samourai's repetitions and the draining of colour gave the film a ritualistic, dream-like existence. Hypnotic and compelling from the first to the last frame, the film captured the essence of the lone warrior journey typical of many romanticized Samurai portrayals. It should be noted that reality was not interesting to Melville - he lived and breathed cinema. Any factual errors concerning Samurai's historical characteristics or the film's highly doubtful details (such as the deployment of a team of police officers to tag one suspect) should be held in light of the film's intention. Its aim for hyper-realism meant that it existed only within the context of cinema, which was itself an alternate reality created to give life meaning, not unlike what its anti-hero, Le Samourai (and by extension, us), journeyed through the film for.

Thoughts in point form:
- The lone wolf chose his fate, and knew this
- Macho independence is a self-centered creation
- He was not as alone as he thought: without those who helped him with his alibi and his disguise, he would not be where he was.
- The importance of women in his life: a protector, and an angel of death, sometimes both in the same person (the pianist)
- Extreme take on the idea that we are all alone in this world - very existentialistic, and fatalistic
- Death projection: man carries within him his death sentence, and Jef was walking towards it, knowingly
- Caged bird and hit man: only truly 'free' when dead
- Repetitions and the draining of colour: ritualistic, dream-like existence
- Note: the 'proverb' was actually Melville's creation, and not from any Samurai book.

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