Top Two and The Rest of the Story!!!
02. NEKOJIRU-SO
dir. Tatsuo Sato
An mysterious artist in Japan kills herself. A cult-like devotion springs up around her work. A film is made from her manga creations to pay tribute to her. And normally, I’d never hear the first thing about a film like this, but I have the Fantasia Film Festival in Montreal to thank for the number two spot on my list this year. Where else would I have seen a 33-minute piece of Japanese animation?
Here’s what I wrote after seeing it for the second time in Montreal this summer:
"I went to see it again because it had such a strong impact on me, and because I wanted to see if it was something that would hit me that well again.
It did. Maybe even more so the second time.
The film opens with a title sequence that I found underwhelming both times. It’s obviously shot on video, a camera moving over a static illustration of little cat footprints moving around the credits in a tangled path, like a HELLO KITTY version of one of those Sunday "Family Circus" strips where Billy doesn’t go straight home from school. It doesn’t begin to hint at the power of the film itself, and if anyone ever gets smart enough to release the film on video for Region One (hinthinthinthint), I hope this one part of the picture is rethought.
From the first image, though, the film itself is magic. Nyatta, a tiny kitty, leans into a bathtub to play with a toy boat, accidentally dunking her head underwater as she does so. Her family is spread throughout the house. Mother is in the kitchen washing dishes. Father lies on the floor in the family room, drunk. And Nyako, her brother, is alone in his room facing the God of Death. As Nyako lies on his back staring up at the ceiling, we see through his eyes for a moment. He closes them, then opens them and watches the light and shadows play across the dappled surface above. Nyatta happens to come into the room at just the right moment, her eyes still pure and clear enough to see Nyako leaving, hand in hand with Death, and she follows out of curiosity more than anything.
It is a surreal world Nyatta ventures out into. A group of housewives stands around yattering at one another, and Nyatta pauses to release the air valve on one of them, causing her to deflate like a beach toy. The other women just keep talking, paying no attention. When Nyatta catches up with her brother and Death, she grabs hold of one of his arms and pulls, refusing to let him go. She and Death each end up with half of Nyako’s soul, and she runs home to find that her parents have already called in a doctor, who is pronouncing her brother dead. She puts his half a soul back, and for the rest of the piece, there’s something broken about Nyako. One eye is open a little further than the other. He stares straight ahead, hardly aware of the landscapes around them as his sister takes him from place to place.
They go to a giant tented circus show, where a magician performs incredible feats. His very words take shape, becoming an armchair or a fish or an elephant. When he brings out a giant being made of clouds, the being fills up with a storm that gives way to rain, flooding the tent and the earth itself. Nyatta and Nyako find themselves adrift on a boat, lost in a world that is nothing but water. Somehow, they’ve picked up a pig as a companion, and when he offers them fish to eat, Nyatta slices him open and removes a section of his fat instead. She cooks it, feeds part of it to Nyako, then gives the pig the rest of it to chew on happily. When all the water dries up and they find themselves in a desert without end, they ride the pig as far as they can, bashing him on the head and carving off lumps for food.
He drops dead, and they are forced onto foot, eventually leading them to a house where a strange man waits to feed them dinner. He has a bird tied to a rope that flies in small circles over the table until he sets it on fire. It continues to fly as it cooks, eventually dropping in front of Nyatta, ready to eat. The strange man feeds them desserts until they are full, then leads them to a large pot, where they are placed to boil. He vanishes for a moment, returning in strange fetish gear, ready to chop them up for stew. Nyatta tricks him, though, and cuts his arms and legs off, leaving him in the pot, the lid on, while she and her brother escape. When she cracks his head open and finds clockwork, she doesn’t seem remotely surprised.
In fact, nothing in this world seems to phase Nyatta. She understands that life is brutal, and with every good thing that happens, there is bad as well. They dig for water under a crystal mushroom in the dessert and find a water hole that issues forth a large water elephant. Nyatta and Nyako ride inside of it, swimming in the elephant from water hole to water hole, but eventually the heat is too much, and it evaporates. Time and time again, their joy gives way to further misery, and the siblings are forced to adapt. When the clockwork of the universe gets stuck due to half a cabbage stuck in the gears, God himself reaches in and runs things in reverse, and there is a haunting montage of atrocity and accidents played in reverse, car crashes giving birth to complete drivers, age giving way to youth, evolution moonwalking us all the way back to the oceans.
I love this movie. I must own this movie. You must see this movie. I will be haunted by these images for some time, and if you’re fortunate enough to see the film, you will be, too."
I almost feel bad listing this film, since it’s not readily available here and there are no current plans to make it available here. But in my heart, there’s nothing else that I responded to on quite the same level. Any single frame of this film could be shown on a museum wall and still be a piece of art. Taken as a summary of an artist’s world view, this is a chilling piece, sad and heartbreaking. It’s no wonder she was in a hurry to leave this world behind. It seemed to scare her, a place of infinite possible hurt and suffering.
I was able to finally get my hands on a copy of this film on VHS about three weeks ago, and I’ve played it at least ten times since. There are tracking problems on the tape, there’s a place where it keep threatening to just plain disintegrate, and it’s obviously a dub of a dub of a dub... but I don’t care. When I put it on, I vanish into it. I find it immersive and endlessly fascinating, and I will show it to any visitor here at the Labs at the drop of a hat. It does what any great film does: it moves me. I will overlook the film’s obscurity and list it here, hoping that in some way, I might increase the odds that you will one day have a chance to judge its merits for yourself. Until then, all you have is my word, my passion for it.
Here’s hoping that changes soon.
01. THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING
dir. Peter Jackson
Honestly... is anyone surprised?
What can I say that I didn’t the first time around?
I love films because they engage my emotions, my intellect, my imagination, and my empathy, and when a film manages to engage all of those things at once, and in equal measure, it feels like magic to me. No matter how close I get to the process, no matter how many times I go through it myself and watch something take shape and come to life, I will always believe in alchemy, in pure and simple magic, because films like this come along and reinforce it for me.
People seized upon individual words from my review of this film and overanalyzed them, and I was surprised by how vocal both those who love this film and those who don’t have been when writing me, how rabid they both seem. I’ll admit... I was part of that. My review is a love letter, a 14 page blow job for Peter Jackson. But look at what he just released!! If anyone deserved that, it was Peter. Is the film "perfect" or "flawless"? No. It is not. Do any of the flaws in the film or the imperfections bother me or distract from my experience watching it? Not at all.
And that’s love. Plain and simple. I have days when I feel like Charlie Kaufman at the beginning of the ADAPTATION script, where I hate something about my appearance, my hair or my skin or my body, and the thing I can count on from my girlfriend is that she somehow manages to make me feel better about whatever that thing is. She looks past it, or she embraces it. She doesn’t just accept it; she loves me more because of it. That’s love. That’s what I feel for this film, what I feel for any of the films on my list of personal favorites. That’s what makes me go out and buy something on DVD. That’s what gets me to put a film that I’ve seen a dozen times into the player to watch it again... love. I am grateful to any filmmaker who can make me feel this way about a movie, especially one that’s at the center of the massive hypestorm this one is. I mean, normally, that’s all it takes to destroy a film. Just hype the shit out of it, place undue corporate pressure on it, and sit back to watch the thing implode. Time and time again, we see disastrously bad films under these circumstances. But FELLOWSHIP plays like a dream, like that ideal version of a big-budget blockbuster that plays out while you’re asleep on that IMAX screen at the cineplex in your subconscious. It’s too much to absorb in the first viewing, like Peter Jackson’s flurry of imagination is too much to digest, and it’s not until the second time or even the third that you can really get a handle on the whole thing.
And just for the record... I believe in repeat viewings before writing about things, if possible. Obviously, we’re not always in that position of luxury, but sometimes opinions shift. In the case of films where I have an intense reaction, positive or negative, I like to see them again to test. I saw A.I. three times this summer, each time in totally different circumstances, and I can say conclusively that my problems with it are too large to overlook. I gave the film every possible chance to connect with me. With FELLOWSHIP, there was every possiblity that I had just gushed the first time because of the sheer emotional release of finally seeing this thing. I wasn’t manic the way Harry was, but after seeing the Cannes reel earlier in the year, I was definitely pumped up. I wanted this movie to work, and the repeat viewings I’ve had reinforce for me just how well it plays. Each time, it’s been totally different types of audiences, and each time, it’s gotten tremendous audience response, really connecting with them and connecting them as a group.
To be honest, I almost feel like setting FELLOWSHIP aside, keeping it off any list of any kind until I’ve got THE TWO TOWERS and RETURN OF THE KING to judge as well, but this is an individual film. It exists by itself for now. And by itself, even with a story that is completely unresolved, I find this to be so arresting and absorbing an experience that it has to top my list. I love the little things about the movie, the things that give it weight. I love how dirty the world is. Look at Gandalf’s fingernails or his hair. This guy didn’t just step out of a makeup trailer. He’s been on a horse for six weeks. He looks like hell. I love the nail driven sideways through the hooves of the Black Riders. I love the way the bugs and the worms literally scramble to get away at the approach of the Ringwraith by the side of the road. I love the moment when Gandalf suddenly changes at Bag End, scaring Bilbo into realizing how attached he is to the Ring. I love Bilbo when he steps outside and says, "I just thought of an ending for my book..." I love every damn second of Moria. I love the Watcher in the Lake. I love the moment where Legolas is walking on top of the snow. I love Christopher Lee when he’s... well, actually, it doesn’t really matter what he’s doing. I love every second of Christopher Lee. I could go on and on, but the truth is, I’ve already said everything I need to. I am on the record. I am almost worn out from proclaiming my indecent level of affection for this movie.
One film to rule them all, indeed.
READ MY ORIGINAL REVIEW HERE!!
20 HOURS I WANT BACK
I AM SAM
Marshall Herskovitz and Ed Zwick know better than this. As producers of the show ONCE & AGAIN, they were responsible for a particularly affecting run of episodes last year featuring Patrick Dempsey as the emotionally disturbed brother of Sela Ward’s character. That was delicately scripted stuff with a keen eye for the reality of how hard it can be for an individual to survive with such a debilitating handicap.
So why, if they’re so smart, would they get involved with pandering, puerile crap like this? This movie plays every cheap sympathy card it can, and features witless dialogue that is painfully on the nose at every turn.
There were films that were worse than this in 2001, but I’ve reached the point where I can’t stomach another one of these "magic retard who saves our souls" movies, and I reject this one with every bit of my being, and urge you to do the same.
FINAL FANTASY: THE SPIRITS WITHIN
Poorly designed, visually boring, and utterly without a spark of story invention, this managed to alienate fans of the game series it was (not) based on and fans of the burgeoning field of computer animated feature films. I can’t think of a single reason to recommend this film, but I think of about a dozen reasons to avoid it. This is the precise reason flesh and blood actors need never fear a computer replacing them... all the money in the world can’t create life or inspiration, the two things of which this film is completely bankrupt.
JACK THE DOG
I would skip mentioning this fucking wankfest if it weren’t set to make it’s debut on either IFC or The Sundance Channel in the next few weeks. I forget which one it is, and I don’t feel like looking it up. I saw this the last night I was at Sundance last January, and it’s such a vile little movie about male stereotypes that it has the power to not just make you ashamed to be a movie fan, but ashamed that you’re a man. Writer/director Bobby Roth should seek therapy for his extreme, violent hatred of women, and should also put the movie camera down before someone gets hurt. If you ever want to see an example of why not everyone should make movies, look no further than this stupid, meanspirited, blackhearted little vanity vomit.
READ MY ORIGINAL REVIEW HERE!!
EVOLUTION
When did Ivan Reitman die? And why are they still putting his name on movies? Surely this is not the work of a living breathing filmmaker, and definitely not the guy who made GHOSTBUSTERS. I won’t believe it. I can’t believe it.
TIE
SERIES 7: THE CONTENDERS/15 MINUTES
Stop it. I mean it, everybody. Stop making "satires" of reality television. Stop trying to sum it all up and make the big statement on the unblinking media eye and morality. You’re too late. Paddy Cheyefsky did it in 1976 with NETWORK, and he did it with so much style and class that you have to wonder what the witless weenies behind these two knuckle-headed misfires were thinking.
SERIES 7 manages to make the idea of a TV show in which contestants kill each other actually seem boring. I wouldn’t watch two episodes of this show, but not because of outrage. If I was offended by anything, it was the poor characterization, the miserable performances, the butt-ugly cinematography, or the disinterested direction.
And 15 MINUTES is a film that wants it both ways, that tries desperately to take a position of moral superiority even as it wallows in the exploitative filth it wants to condemn. This, like TRAINING DAY, is a movie that takes a provocative premise and throws it away on conventional crappy Hollywood plotting and stupid, easy wrap-ups.
LARA CROFT: TOMB RAIDER
I’m still embarrassed to see how much faith I had in this film pre-release. I should have known better. Two simple words should have tipped me off:
Simon West.
The man is without talent. Devoid of talent. Absolutely free of the terrible burden of storytelling skill or narrative coherence. He couldn’t tell a story if it would keep him out of the electric chair. He should donate his eyes to science now, because they’re not doing him any good.
PEARL HARBOR
A testament to waste, a milestone in mediocrity, Michael Bay’s will be a PEARL HARBOR that will live forever in deserved obscurity, a quickly-forgotten belch of blockbuster bloat that managed to take one of the key moments in our cultural history and reimagine it as a Universal Studios theme park stunt show. In the hands of a real filmmaker, this would have been a film that we all would have embraced as extra-relevant following the events of September. Instead, it was the stocking stuffer most guaranteed to get a bewildered, "Why did you pick this?" from geeks this past Christmas.
Enjoy the slide into anonymity, Michael. This was just the start.
PLANET OF THE APES
Want to see just how bland a film an iconoclast like Burton can make? Look no further than this limp, pointless remake of the ‘60s trip. Yes, Rick Baker did some nice work on make-up. I can think of nothing else good to say here.
Oh, wait... Lisa Marie’s mating dance was pretty funny. I can say that.
Otherwise, there wasn’t a single good line or image in this film, and there wasn’t a moment while watching it that I wasn’t thinking about the mechanics of the whole thing. It looks like soundstages, except for the locations that are so boring they might as well be soundstages.
This is exactly what I’m talking about when I call these movies "hours I want back." I gained nothing watching this film, except the knowledge that Tim Burton can jerk off idly with the best of them. If you haven’t seen it by now, do yourself the favor and keep it that way. You’re not missing a thing.
SWORDFISH
That opening monologue by Travolta where he talks about how shitty action films are almost makes this review redundant.
Can we all just agree that this sort of smirky happy terrorist/gunplay/action bullshit is over now and move on to the business of crafting genuinely creative action movies? Please? Pretty please?
Oh, and a quick note to Hugh Jackman: you’re going to be a big star for a long time. When you’re offered this or KATE & LEOPOLD, it’s okay to say "no." Better roles will come along. You will work again. I promise.
VERSUS
Like SIX-STRING SAMURAI, this is one of those "must see" geek films that I found completely without merit, a case of all pose and no purpose. There’s about ten or twelve minutes of fun buried in this one. Somewhere. If you can get through all the cheap Raimi inspired push ins and the endless footage of people standing around like tough guys.
Correction: if you WANT to get through it all. I’m betting you won’t after about ten minutes. Anyone who stays for the end is a glutton for punishment
And on that note, I’ll leave you. I’m off to skim the new ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY and the Sunday LA TIMES CALENDAR section from today, both of which feature their 2002 sneaks. I can’t wait to see what’s ahead now that I’ve finished with what’s just past. I’ll be back later this week with my RUMBLINGS. Until then...
"Moriarty" out.
