Terminator: (no) Salvation (for this series)

It's been the better part of two decades since the last good Terminator film, and unfortunately it appears the team behind Terminator Salvation took the disastrous third installment to the series as their benchmark. Alas, while succeeding in making a better film than Rise of the Machines, for seasoned fans it's just not enough.

The best part about the film is that it ignores the conundrums of Rise of the Machines entirely (despite coming from the same team of writers): Judgment Day happened, but there's no need to dwell on it. Unfortunately, following this the film rests on various sci-fi formulas, attempting to mix a fresh cocktail out of old ingredients. The audience is treated to everything from the "disrupting the signal" plotline from Independence Day to a half-hearted run-in with Blade Runner concerning a "human" terminator, and even a taste of "you know what you must do" from the laughable Matrix sequels.

Dismissing all of this in the spirit of holding summer blockbusters to a lower standard (which I've never actually supported), Salvation still fails. The film's first action sequence has all the quality of a video game as far as graphics go, with actors running around a stage spruced up with computer graphics that, I'm sorry to say, just don't convince. Computer-instilled (and actual prop-based) set-dressing does improve as the film goes on, but many of the outdoor sequences contain a haze meant to be fog or smoke, which looks like poor work with the airbrush tool in Photoshop. It's this quality of work that I hope a forthcoming post-apocalyptic film, The Road, avoids.

The problems only continue with McG (the ill-advised working name for Joseph McGinty Nichol) in the director's chair. Boldly announcing his director credit a good few minutes after the rest of the credits have ended, we're treated to sequences we'd expect from a former music video director (for artists including Korn and Cypress Hill) whose major film credits lie with two Charlie's Angels films. That is, helicopter crashes shot from the cockpit viewpoint while the helicopter spins through smoke (it's not really intense when you can't see anything), sticking to claustrophobic close-ups in wide open spaces (the "Private Ryan" effect that J.J. Abrams, among others, have thankfully moved away from), and generally allowing all the silliness that Rise of the Machines used to destroy the series. Of course, "I'll be back" is uttered, along with some other one-liners from the first films ("Come with me if you want to live"), but by this point everyone within earshot in the audience let out sighs. This servesd as a mere reminder that we'd rather have been home watching one of the first two.

Indeed, perhaps the worst part of Salvation is that the future just doesn't seem so bad. Not compared to the tidbits we're given in the first two films, anyway:

Things are so good that mankind apparently now has the option to fight in the war against the machines. While bases are underground, characters can spend days walking around above ground with little to fear. There's even some places so far out from the machines' home base that they've never ventured out "that far." Judgment Day was a nuclear holocaust, and the blue skies that smile on our characters every day should have Greenpeace up in arms. It's no fun to show persons living in the squallor portrayed in the first Terminators, but it would make our heroes that much more heroic if that's what they were fighting against.

Speaking of heroes, Christian Bale is Batman... wait, excuse me, John Connor. After American Psycho we know that Mr. Bale is capable of another kind of American accent, so why did he have to stick with the exact Batman voice? Finally, the cameo by Helena Bonham Carter is unfortunate. If I Am Legend tought the industry anything (aside from making millions in profits from a mediocre film), it's to not cast an actor an in a cameo whose abilities far exceed everyone else in the film (paging un uncredited Emma Thompson...).

Last summer Iron Man had an unfortunate side effect: it was fun summer fare that worked, and it was released in May. Nothing that follow lived up to it (I was not as big a fan of Dark Knight as most), and I fear Star Trek may have set the same high bar for this summer.

Star Trek: Rather Than Review...

But for Seven of Nine, there's nothing missing from this film.

Enough has been said about the new Star Trek already. Instead, I'll just throw this out there:

1.) Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan
2.) Star Trek (2009)
3.) Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country
4.) Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home
5.) Star Trek (1979)
6.) Star Trek III: The Search for Spock
7.) Star Trek V: The Final Frontier
8 - whatever.) The easily forgettable ones with the Next Generation cast.

Oh, sure, this isn't exactly what one could justify as an "update," but it's better than nothing. I've got a bar exam to study for, people. Me and 40,000 other JDs... ugh.

Films (namely, Star Wars) as Cultural Property?

Drawing on my Blade Runner post a few weeks back, one reason the Special Edition Uber Box Set release is cherished by fans is because it includes every popular edition of the film as well as the "Workprint," which was seen only by some very lucky theater-goers (and those who bought a bootleg off one of them) until that point. Even though the DVD with the original Domestic Cut includes a short introduction by Ridley Scott officially disowning the version and saying it's included solely for the fans, at least he respects the fans enough to include it.

Paging George Lucas?

This weekend I had the almost-pleasure to view The Empire Strikes Back on DVD. Never mind that this DVD box set came out in 2004, this was my first viewing. The results give me pause. This is not news, but Lucasfilm tweaked (or, changed) Empire and its fellow originals to fix continuity issues with the new Star Wars trilogy. Again, this is not news-- see the full story of changes here.

Basically, Lucasfilm's Empire Strikes Back now includes a re-do of Darth Vader's communication with Emperor Palpatine from his flagship, Executor via hologram. They used Ian McDiarmid (the actor who played Palpatine in Return of the Jedi and the three prequels) and changed the dialogue:

(Decidedly, no longer a woman with creepy superimposed eyes.)

This I could handle even though it made me think of the three newer movies, which I can't stand. Far worse--unforgivable, I daresay--is the re-dubbing of Boba Fett's voice. This was also done to bring the entire trilogy in line with Attack of the Clones (Episode 2), which I still haven't actually seen (and likely will not). Anyway, Fett used to sound mean and gruff, and now he sounds like a drunken Cockney tough guy-- oh, all right, he sounds like Temuera Morrison, who played Jango Fett in Clones. Make that "drunken New Zealand tough guy."

I proudly own a Star Wars box set from around 1995, VHS tapes which include the original trilogy "Digitally mastered in THX." Sadly, it's pan-and-scan format, but aside from this and THX restoration it's exactly what the fans saw in 1977, 1980, and 1983, respectively. Does even the new (2006 / 2008) Star Wars box set-- the release of the original trilogy since 1995--treat the originals like the Blade Runner set? Alas, no. Look no further than the user comments on Amazon regarding the recent 2008 release to get the story.

As an aspiring esquire with very limited knowledge of copyright law who considered actually writing a law review article on the subject, I can say that Lucas is well within his rights to do whatever he wants with his trilogy, be it with the content or the release format. Nevertheless, I join legions of fans who are dismayed that with all of its money Lucasfilm refuses to prefectly restore the original trilogy, release it in anamorphic widescreen and, while they're at it, put it out on BluRay.

I can't speak for the law, but the public policy implications are ripe. This appears to be an issue of first impression. We've seen boatloads of "Director's Cuts" and "Special Editions" for over 20 years now (before the home video releases many films, including Fried Green Tomatoes, featured television premieres hyped with "scenes not seen in theaters"); we now have separate releases of "rated" and "unrated" films, some even combined to include both versions on one disc. The (original-)original Star Wars trilogy appears to be, for the moment, the lone victim of suppression.

Of course Lucas can't do anything about my VHS tapes or the old laserdiscs-- this isn't really suppression--he can simply refuse to heed fans' demands for perfection, which is well within his rights. I have a feeling, though, that there's a good argument here for abandonment. Lucas has altered his property, but the original is still there, in the beautiful form he gave fans over twenty years ago. Is there not an argument that this is, in fact, "Cultural Property?" It would be a new frontier; Cultural Property is currently limited to artifacts, monuments, and other artworks (think the Sphinx). This would place the originals in public domain and open the door for other users to get the negative, restore it to better-than-original glory, and make it available to the public.

All right, the capitalists (me included) may break out in hives at the thought, but it seems so, so perverse that I'm willing to make my stand in spite of all slippery slope arguments.

You don't want your kids growing up with Boba Fett from New Zealand, do you?

Watching the Watchmen

Apologies for the lack of a post over the past few weeks. To begin, it's nice to review a new film for a change. While I haven't made it to critics-only pre-screenings yet, at least I caught Watchmen during opening weekend.

With this, Zack Snyder can, perhaps, join our directorial hat-trick list, slotting in this #3 on the heels of 300 (2006) and Dawn of the Dead (2004). This is a very respectable list, especially notable because all three films originate from well-regarded source material. Dawn of the Dead is a remake of George Romero's 1978 follow-up to his own classic Night of the Living Dead (1968) (catch all that?). Considering Romero's own protege Tom Savini couldn't successfully remake Night (1990), to pull off Dawn as well as Snyder did (on top of it being Snyder's first feature film) was almost miraculous. While Sin City (2005) was well done and certainly star-studded, it hasn't enjoyed the staying power of 300, Snyder's first foray into not just comic books, but comic books from one of the masters, Frank Miller.

After reading the Watchmen graphic novel (read: a 12 comic book series bound into one volume) for the first time just last June, when the trailer for the film dropped with The Dark Knight over the summer I was enthused, but anxious. Watchmen is the most influential comic book ever created. (I highly recommend The Dark Knight Returns and the first 12 issues of American Flagg! as well, but I digress.) Its narrative, complexity and delightful tangents are, taken as a whole, nothing short of intimidating (but in a good way). Snyder is a gifted director, but when directors none other than Terry Gilliam (no slouch when it comes to difficult adaptations) have judged a work "unfilmable," it's no insult to suspect he may have bit off more than he could chew.

Thankfully, my fears did not come true. Entirely.

As a director, once again Snyder has proved his worth. He has taken a classic and translated it seamlessly to the big screen. I will not be slobbering all over this film; I do have reservations, but it is a noble cinematic effort which I believe deserves far more praise than popcorn fare like The Dark Knight.

At 163 minutes this is a long film, but it only misses its pace on a few occasions. Having seen the film after reading the novel, I knew what was coming and looked forward to it, and was most often impressed with the execution. If only for purposes of time, rewrites, and subtractions and additions to dialogue were necessary, and mostly well-done. Joe Morgenstern's review in the Wall Street Journal rightfully blasts some lines such as "I'm not a comic-book villain," but I daresay he's nitpicking. The action is intense, however quite graphic (another trademark for all three of Snyder's feature films), but interesting and well-choreographed. I believed for a time after Matrix Reloaded that Hollywood had completely lost it with fight scenes, but with Watchmen and 300 Snyder's ensured they're alive and well. The mis en scene is outstanding, and I have nothing but respect for the costume designers, set designers and other assorted crew who put this together.

The acting varies. Fortunately, Jackie Earle Haley is perfect as Rorschach, arguably the story's main character. Especially when he's unmasked, Haley brings to life a very disturbed man who, while I don't want to be his friend, draws some respect for his uncompromising nature. Billy Crudup is almost as good as Dr. Manhattan, but in his more sensitive moments I couldn't help but think of Tobey Maguire as Peter Parker, Spider-Man's civilian side. Patrick Wilson is good as Nite Owl, but he shares many scenes with Malin Akerman who, I'm sorry to say, has a ways to go.

Snyder's, and the film's, boldest trademark is Snyder's fearless use of popular music. This should be no surprise: for the opening credits of Dawn of the Dead he selected "The Man Comes Around" by Johnny Cash, and it's amazing. In Watchmen, we're treated to Simon & Garfunkel, Jimmi Hendrix, Bob Dylan, etc., and all to great effect.

I cap the good aspects of this film with the music because it's one of the few things that truly separates Watchmen from its source material. Floating at a meager score of 56/100 on metacritic at the time of this post, this is the quandary many critics, myself included, face with the film: why? Is there a point where a translation is done so effectively that it becomes meaningless or even insulting? Of course, there's no satisfying the entire audience: too much creative license would have drawn equally (if not more) powerful wrath from those crying "sacrilege!" But this only dodges the question.

To be sure, Watchmen is treading into charted but not-as-of-yet mastered territory: parallel media. The comic is so dense with material, nothing short of a 13-hour mini-series would have brought it all to the screen. So, soon enough we'll have an animated version of Tales of the Black Freighter to supplement the film. Tales is an excellent parallel narrative in the comic. This kind of multi-pronged storytelling hasn't worked out well thus far: Star Wars: The Clone Wars opened in theaters last year to launch a television series without much success. Far less successfully, though, Richard Kelly's disaster Southland Tales is actually the last three chapters in a six-chapter story, the first three chapters being comic books very few people purchased (guilty). But where these films were producing fresh material in various forms, Watchmen seeks to preserve an old story in a new form. David Edelstein may be right: "This kind of reverence kills what it seeks to preserve."

This nagging feeling combines with my biggest critique of Watchmen as a film and as a graphic novel. For all of the criticism that may be directed toward the film, it strikes me that the heavy-handedness, the "there is no hope" message of Watchmen is rather over-the-top. To be sure, Rorschach (and, perhaps, all his "reactionary" faults?) has the last laugh, but this seems to pale in light of the story's climax. Both Tales of the Black Freighter and the main narrative in Watchmen give off disturbing support of... well, inaction? We have two stories which show that the pursuance of good, or the best intentions, can be corrupted with evil means. This is a tragedy as old as man, but the film and the novel alike seem to sigh at this with an all-encompassing "oh, well." Whether one fights evil means uncompromisingly as Rorschach does or pursues good ends with those evil means as Ozymandias, it seems that "All's Well that Ends Well." Sure, there's a glimmer of humor and hope in the closing of the story, but is this a little too little too late?

Unlike No Country for Old Men, a film and book with dastardliness I defend as a call to arms, Watchmen ultimately strikes me with a call to do nothing: if greater forces are at work, there's no stopping them. I won't settle for this.

In conclusion, I suppose I've learned in this post why I'd never make for a good movie reviewer on the clock: I need time to digest this stuff. Often, lots of it. Blade Runner, that film I gave a whole post to a few weeks back? I hated it the first time I saw it. Perhaps someday I'll have some conclusions for all the questions I've raised with Watchmen. But, indeed, while I have plenty of criticism to level at it, Watchmen is a very thought-provoking and expertly executed film that I encourage moviegoers to see.

I'll end almost as I began: this isn't The Dark Knight, and I mean that as a compliment.

Hat-Tricks

When Richard Kelly followed up Donnie Darko with Southland Tales, I think a good number of us wept. Tears of joy they were not. Every director, every director, has an off year. In that year, the director will make a film that is not up to snuff. It happens.

But rather than dwell on a director's missteps or outright failures, I like to admire directors for their hot streaks. When a director gets in the groove and creates a series of films that are all worthy of classic status, for me the overall accomplishment raises the value of each respective film. Perhaps it's a bit of an overly macho analogy, but in the game of filmmaking a hat-trick is not easy, and those who pull it off are usually MVPs.

My Nominations:

Ridley Scott (naturally): The Duellists (1977), Alien (1979), Blade Runner (1982)

Stanley Kubrick: Lolita (1962), Dr. Strangelove (1964), 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

Stanley Kubrick (again!): A Clockwork Orange (1971), Barry Lyndon (1975), The Shining (1980)

Akira Kurosawa: Yojimbo (1961), Sanjuro (1962), High and Low (1963)

Terry Gilliam: Brazil (1985), The Adventures of Baron Munchausen (1988), The Fisher King (1991)¹

Alexander Payne: Election (1999)², About Schmidt (2002), Sideways (2004)

Alfred Hitchcock: Vertigo (1958), North by Northwest (1959), Psycho (1960)

Francis Ford Coppola: The Godfather (1972), The Conversation (1974), The Godfather, Part II (1974)

Peter Weir: Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975), The Last Wave (1977), Gallipoli (1981)

Joel Coen: Blood Simple (1984), Raising Arizona (1987), Miller's Crossing (1990)

George Lucas³: THX 1138 (1971), American Graffiti (1973), Star Wars (1977)

John McTiernan: Predator (1987), Die Hard (1988), The Hunt for Red October (1990)

1 Okay, this is a stretch, but...
2 Go ahead, throw down the gauntlet; I will fight for this film.
3 "Sub-question: is it in fact unfair to criticize a formerly great artist for his latter day sins? Is it better to burn out or fade away?" -Barry, High Fidelity

I open this discussion to the world and my fellow posters. Does my argument have any merit at all? If so, who else has a bona fide hat-trick?

Blade Runner: Yes, It's That Awesome.

In the past, too often I danced around the question "What's your favorite movie?" I think I was trying to sound clever by refusing to answer. I'd usually launch into a long speech about Fellini, Kurosawa, Kubrick, Hitchcock, and sprinkle in a few moderns like Kar Wai Wong and Ridley Scott so as not to sound like an old fart. By the time I was through, I'd have named about 20 films, 19 of which the average questioner had not seen, and all 19 of which he or she would not likely remember.

Not only was such snobbery, well, snobbish, it was also a lie.

My favorite film is Blade Runner.


Oh, to dwell among a class of internet fanboys and girls so large it's practically bourgeoisie! Well, if what's popular is seldom beautiful, that does not mean it never is.

And, indeed, while Blade Runner has gained a lot of ground (well beyond mere cult following) since 1982, there's still plenty of people out there who haven't seen it. Nay, experienced it. When it came time for my yearly viewing (a right only matched by Rear Window), I decided to devote a post to it. Last year is nearly impossible to top: I had three friends over, none of whom had seen the film, a brand new copy of the Final Cut DVD (only a few months old at that point), and an '84 Bordeaux which is, incidentally, the year I was born. (No, '84 was not a legendary year, for Bordeaux, but drinking wine that old is never not fun. Unless it's turned to vinegar.) How could I top this? An '82 something (the year of BR's original release), one special lady who hasn't seen it, a Blu-Ray copy, and some serious making out afterward would probably do it. Seeing as I'm a guy who's blogging about Blade Runner, this will probably require an Act of God. Here's praying.

No, this year is all yours, you who read this. Fans will nod and hopefully appreciate my insights, which are available at least 442 other places on the World Wide Web in all written languages. But maybe, just maybe, someone will read this who has not yet seen this masterpiece. Likely this person has heard of Blade Runner before and has told him or herself that they've really got to get around to it. Perhaps it's on the Netflix or Blockbuster queue, but keeps getting bumped for recents like There Will Be Blood or, heaven forbid, Doomsday. Finally, after reading my words, should this person will act, it will have all been worth it.

But, please, don't stop there: see it. Don't ask about it, don't talk about it, just let it set for awhile. A few months or maybe a year later, watch it again. Everyone's heard that about a movie before, but trust me, this is the one. Once is never enough. This was probably my 70th viewing.

NOTE: Those concerned about spoilers should avoid the sections on "The Themes" and "The Confusion."

The Visuals:
I rest my case.

Even those who can't stand Blade Runner (and there are some) appreciate that it's a visual milestone. Even today, amped up to the highest possible Blue-Ray resolution, despite the technological limitations of the early 80's, it's gorgeous. Today it's computers and green screens, but for some reason I savor the production value of sets, modelwork and matte paintings. Computer animation has come a long way, and it's certainly more cost effective, but I daresay it still does not live up to the work done on Blade Runner (or even 2001, but that's another post). This just looks real.

I'm the last person to let a shoddy movie get a pass because it looks perfect (this is why I can't recommend either of Terrence Malick's most recent films), but this comes close. And, fortunately, it has far more to offer.

The Music:

Vangelis, king of the synthesizer. While the instrument is quintessentially 80's, this is not Flock of Seagulls. Like Vangelis's most famous score, Chariots of Fire (which takes place in 1924), Blade Runner's score transcends the time of its production. Combined with the visual style of Blade Runner, one hears exactly what one sees. This is the only score I have on CD.

The Story:

Los Angeles, November 2019: Rick Deckard is a blade runner who's quit the police force. Blade runners track down and terminate renegade replicants--genetically engineered beings--which are illegal on Earth. Deckard is divorced and has a drinking problem. It's never explained why Deckard quit, got divorced or developed said drinking problem (or whether it occurred in that order), but it's likely his conscience started to bother him as Replicants became more and more human. Replicants are not machines: if you prick them, they bleed.

Roy Batty, Leon, Pris and Zhora are a band of replicants that escape to earth from off-world colonies. They're all the most advanced model, Nexus-6. Replicants are faster, stronger, and often more intelligent than the average human, but lack human emotions (they presumably begin their lives as adults). To prevent them from developing their own emotions, replicants are designed to live only four years. While emotionally undeveloped, this band of replicants is angry with this situation and seeks out a cure to their "accelerated decrepitude" from their manufacturer the Tyrell Corporation, headed by Dr. Eldon Tyrell.

After blade runner David Holden is nearly killed by Leon, Deckard is brought back to the force to track down and "retire" these Replicants. Along the way, he meets and falls in love with a special Nexus-6 replicant, Rachael, who has artificial memories which give her more human emotions. Deckard performs most of his duties, however sloppily, and ends up at the mercy of Roy Batty in a very dramatic climax.

The Themes:

A simple enough plot (made moreso by thousands of immitators) opens a can of worms, or more like a cupboard full of cans of worms. As science advances and cloning becomes a reality, the ethical dilemmas of Blade Runner continue to ripen: who is man to create intelligent life? Is such life artificial? Is such life inferior? Is such, life? Does man thereby destroy God? Does man become God? Will God allow this to happen?

Rick Deckard is quintessential anti-hero of the future: He believes what he's doing is wrong, but does it anyway while numbing his mind and body with Johnnie Walker and a variety of other hard liquors. While seemingly reflective, he mechanically draws his blaster upon sight of a "skin job." He's not very sporting about it, either. He falls for Rachael, but her reluctance leads to what would probably amount to rape if Rachael were human. And while the Replicants are a deadly, evil band ready to kill to extend their own lifespans, who put them in this situation?

"Quite an experience to live in fear, isn't it? That's what it is to be a slave."

The most important twist is that Deckard's redemption--or at least his chance at it--is made possible by the redemption of Roy Batty. While Pris teasingly says "I think, therefore I am" at one point, Batty, a replicant, shows the first and perhaps only sign of highest humanity in the film: He loves, and therefore he is. With one word, "Kinship!" he saves Deckard's life when he most assuredly deserves to die.

The Confusion (which leads to more Themes!):

Since the release of the Director's Cut in 1992, when Ridley Scott added the famous unicorn dream sequence (you'll also see it in the Final Cut (2007)), it's obvious that Scott's intention was for Deckard to be a replicant himself. Indeed, if Rachael isn't the only experimental replicant, it's conceivable that with fake memories Deckard could go about daily life without even a hint of his identity (or lack thereof). I concede entirely to Scott's authority--it's his movie--but nevertheless fall in favor of Deckard's humanness. It's too nihilistic for Batty's act of selfless love to fall upon a fellow replicant: instead of a "fake" human showing a "real" human what humans should be, the story becomes ironic. Beneath Blade Runner, one of the darkest films ever made, I prefer to see a glimmer of hope: If Roy Batty and Rick Deckard can be redeemed, then surely mankind as a whole can as well. Not, however, if we've replaced God with ourselves.

The argument has been in full swing since 1992, and I hardly claim to settle it. Fans across the web will forever continue to debate the merits. Try that with the thematic elements of Titanic.

The Harrison Ford:

In its original release in the summer of 1982, Blade Runner flopped. It came out in the same month as the sci-fi classic Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (arguably the best of the series) and E.T., neither of which are as popular today but both of which rocked box offices. Looking at the original poster for the film, with the tagline "Man has made his match... now it's his problem," one easily gets the impression that BR was marketed to the same audience. Even the original trailer portrays a film far sleeker and sexier than the dreery final product. One should also consider that this was almost one year to the day after Raiders of the Lost Ark and just a year before Return of the Jedi. When one heard "Harrison Ford," one thought only of Han Solo and Indiana Jones; the world wasn't ready for Rick Deckard, and it certainly wasn't ready for Blade Runner.

Alas, Harrison Ford took it as a black eye. Not only was the film a flop, but work on the set was tumultuous (the book Future Noir, by Paul M. Sammon, tells the fascinating story behind BR's production). Ford seldom had anything to say about the film--and then it wasn't very friendly--and until the release of the Final Cut in late 2007, the fans believed it would stay that way. Fortunately, twenty five years later, Ford buried the hatchet.

And rightfully so. Ranking Ford's best roles, I say the following: (1) John Book in Witness (1985), (2) Allie Fox in The Mosquito Coast (1986), and (3) Rick Deckard in Blade Runner (1982). Leave it to Peter Weir to bring the best out of Ford (he directed the first two), but Ridley Scott came close. Having all but quit acting entirely (has Ford even tried since Clear and Present Danger (1994)?) and approaching the latter part of his life, we can appreciate that Ford had the chops for serious roles as well as popcorn flicks. This film is a landmark for many reasons, not the least of which being that it is the earliest of Ford's gutsy roles.

The Ridley Scott:

Dear Sir Ridley,

Please make great films again.

Thanks,

-Steve

This was the final film in Scott's hat-trick. He has not made a film even close to Blade Runner, much less Alien or The Duellists. Yes, even Gladiator, while quite good, doesn't cut it. Nevertheless, without this man's eye and, furthermore, his resolve, this film would never have been made. Ridley may be forgiven for his recurring sins, everything from G.I. Jane to Body of Lies, because we have proof that beneath the man who's giving us mediocrity there does live a master craftsman, and we should continue to let him work in hopes he will someday succeed again.

And, considering his two greatest masterpieces are science fiction, Ridley may soon have the chance: he's recently been tied to the screen adaptation of Brave New World.

The Extras:

With the release of the Final Cut briefcase in late 2007, the dreams of fans the world over were realized. You have (1) The original 1982 domestic release, (2) The 1982 international release (3) The 1992 Director's Cut, (4) the 1982 workprint (which, outside of a sneak previews in Dallas and Denver before the summer of '82, was only seen previously by a few lucky moviegoers at theaters that accidentally received the cut from Warner Bros. throughout the 1990's), and finally (5) the 2007 Final Cut. Throw in hours upon hours of interviews, never-before-seen deleted scenes and documentaries... it was worth the wait. I'm still digesting it over a year later.

Yes, there are differences between these versions, some major (the original domestic and international release actually includes narration by Harrison Ford, which is interesting but ultimately awful) and some minor (added violence), but for a first viewing the Final Cut is outstanding. Not only did the DVD producers put their hearts and souls into making sure everything that could possibly be put in was put in, they also restored the cut to perfection. The fruits of perfect restoration are seldom this delicious.

So soak up the dream. It's okay to drool. This is, after all, one of the greatest films ever made.

The "You're So Not Going to Make Out With Me, Dream Woman" conundrum:

Of course it's just a fantasy. Couples don't make out after Blade Runner...

...or do they?

Slaying Pseudo-Intellectualism in Modern Horror Films

The best horror films are often classified as dramas. So it is for the first two of my top three: (1) The Vanishing; (2) No Country for Old Men, and (3) Manhunter / Red Dragon. Number 3 is getting a future post all to itself, but for now I'll simply say that I enjoy the original and the remake equally. These films scare me far more than even The Excorcist.

The world was not an evil place until man made it so. The scariest stories for me are not simply terrible things happening to good people for superficial evil reasons (e.g., coeds visiting Camp Crystal Lake are dismembered by a vengeful Jason who's upset over his drowning (or something like it) 20 years prior), but those that focus on characters so consumed by evil it seems they are beyond redemption. Of course, no one is beyond redemption, but in absence of a miracle these people will do a lot of damage. Often, they are unstoppable.

So it goes in all three films: corresponding to the list above, the characters (1) Raymond Lemorne, (2) Anton Chigurh and (3) Francis Dolarhyde are my most horrifying villains, and I pray I never encounter such filth in real life. While these villains hold the upper hand throughout their stories (2/3, anyway), I walk away not depressed but with a new determination to not succumb to such a path and, more importantly, to fight evil, even to the bitterest end. I credit their stories for not pulling any punches; the "smartest" of these men may claim to be beyond good and evil, but there's no question that their claims are meritless.

(Digression: viewing the finale of Fritz Lang's M through a modern lens gives many viewers a sympathetic view of a child murderer as he claims he cannot control his compulsions. I believe in 1931, however, the typical viewer found this claim as horrifying as the man himself. Oh, how far we've advanced. I think removing a "presentist" worldview also makes for better interpretation of the closing to Kurosawa's High and Low (1963).)

Alas, the modern horror genre is preoccupied with giving Nietzsche a soapbox. While typical slasher flicks (going back to the original Black Christmas) focus more on the evil acts themselves than the actor, one recent series is utterly fascinated with its killer and his motives. That is, Jigsaw in the Saw series.

I don't know how Saw II, III, IV, and V turned out. One was enough for me. I apologize for any inaccuracies that may result from this post; I will not be watching Saw again and must recall the theatrical showing from 2004.

Jigsaw is a creepy McGee (though I make no claims that he is of Irish descent). He finds people with problems in their lives (everything from adulterers to drug addicts to tax evaders), kidnaps them and then sets them up in elaborate death traps from which they can try to escape. Escape, however, requires some sort of sacrifice. Dr. Lawrence Gordon, played by the formidable Cary Elwes (okay, "formidable" is a stretch, but I like Robin Hood: Men in Tights), is confronted with the prospect of sawing off his own arm and murdering a fellow captive in order to survive.

I have no recollection how it turns out. This event, however, paired with flashbacks to Jigsaw's past shenanigans, shows an overall pattern that Jigsaw is not only testing each victim's sacrificial will, but providing them a grotesque opportunity to remove the respective monkeys from their backs. The only documented survivor of Jigsaw's antics is a young reformed drug addict, who ripped open a man's gullet (thereby killing him) to find the key to unlock the trap clasped around her neck. Now off the crank, she murmurs, "he helped me."

Does Jigsaw commit terrible misdeeds for the right reasons? Is he merely misguided? Does the fact that our lone survivor will never again touch the needle somehow mitigate Jigsaw using her as a tool for murder? Of course not. Such low-ball ethical dilemmas don't frighten the objective viewer. Jigsaw's not merely evil, he's also... an idiot. Oooo, scary!

What's most unfortunate about these splatterfests pretending to contribute to a discussion is that they overshadow films that have something to offer. Sure, not everyone's sharp enough to appreciate great films, but putting trash like Saw (and its numerically impressive barrage of yearly sequels) out there doesn't improve their chances of stepping into the light.

There are certain "scared straight" hypotheticals raised in films that actually do cause the viewer to work the brain. For me, one of the best such films is One Hour Photo. I've lamented elsewhere that Robin Williams's performance went largely unnoticed because of his great performance in an otherwise mediocre remake that year, Insomnia. Unlike Insomnia, One Hour Photo is worth seeing and reviewing. Sy Parrish is a man who commits a terrible crime, though not so terrible as to make us fear him. He's not a sick curiosity; he's a troubled man whose action, while not drawing our support, does rouse our sympathy. Rightfully so, I daresay. If you missed it, I highly recommend it.

Perhaps since "horror" films are teenage fare they demand a lower standard, but I pay this demand no mind. Even if getting the "drama" label, a properly executed horror film can open the mind and spirit to serious contemplation. Some directors opt to lace their films with pseudo-intellectual nonsense, but they're better off keeping it brainless; nothing's worse that convincing a dumb kid that he's really thinking about something.