12 Years a Slave (Steve McQueen)

Solomon chained.

In 2012, we were given multiple films about slavery, one about its abolition and the other plainly about its utter insanity, in the form of "Lincoln" and "Django Unchained": two films directed by premiere filmmakers Steven Spielberg and Quentin Tarantino. This time, Steve McQueen ("Hunger" and "Shame"), a filmmaker who has steadily established himself throughout the past few years as a potent auteur, brings us "12 Years a Slave": a film that dares to strip 19th century slavery down to its bare essentials and examine the utter savagery that permeates its heart. 

Granted, "12 Years a Slave" is not an easy film to watch, as it contains plenty of racially discomforting scenes and is characterized by a sort of brutal realism that would make you feel awfully heavy all throughout. But as cliched as this may sound, this is perhaps one of the most eye-opening films about racism that I've seen. It is visceral, soulful, and even melancholic. It's without politics and gratuitous fantasy violence. It is sans sentimental speeches and a courageous, white man-slapping hero ala Sidney Poitier in "In the Heat of the Night" at its center. It is an ugly 2-hour portrait of racial oppression and inequality, sure, but what makes it even more heart-rending is the tragic character that exists in its core in the form of Solomon Northup, portrayed by Chiwetel Ejiofor with so much nuanced honesty that to just look at his suffering face is already painful enough to do. It's a film that will wrench your guts and twist your bones in anger, but at the same time, it will also move you to tears. Only a handful of films have made me so furious yet very much helpless, and this is definitely one of them.

The cast, comprised mainly of unknown but immensely talented African-American actors (watch out for Dwight Henry and Quvenzhané  Wallis of "Beasts of the Southern Wild" fame), have finely taken on the film's somber tone while also being intensely emotional in all the right moments without being overly dramatic. And if Chiwetel Ejiofor's devastating performance as Solomon Northup, a free black man who was tricked into slavery (and who has also written the book from which this was based), was the film's heart and soul, Lupita Nyong'o's empathetic turn as Patsey is its flesh, blood, and bones. 

On the other hand, Michael Fassbender, who just never ceases to amaze everyone with his almost unreal acting skills, is pure evil as Edwin Epps, the cotton plantation owner that Solomon and company were unfortunate enough to be sold to. Perennially drunk, ever-amorous, and always armed with a whip and his tendencies to power trip, Epps is the worst kind of slaver (not that I'm saying that there were actually good ones). As crazy as this may sound, countless times have I wished for "Django Unchained's" King Schultz to just magically appear out of nowhere, saunter along Epps' cotton plantation, and just blow his brains out. But then again, this is not how films work. Trust me, though; you will surely have a desire to really rewatch "Django Unchained", what with its not-so-diplomatic way of getting rid of the slave trade, as a sort of natural post-viewing reaction. It's that infuriating a film.  

For some, "12 Years a Slave" may come across as a film that desperately asks for pity the same way beggars ask for alms, or perhaps unnaturally incites moral indignation the same way how films about anything remotely biblical upset hardcore believers. But what it is certainly not, for sure, is a film devoid of emotional power. For only 2 hours, the film was able to delineate the violent extent of bigotry, both in action and in words, without resorting to unnecessary discourses about the politics of the situation. The film is assured in its stance about racism, but its power comes not from the white characters' shocking utterances of the 'N' word or from the disturbing scenes involving slaves and whips but from the tranquil scenes of the laborers humming soulfully while harvesting cotton, singing sadly yet defiantly while they bury a dead colleague, and from scenes of them painfully trying to keep their human decency intact even in the face of inhumanity. And if ever the age of slavery has taught us anything, then it is the fact that it never hurts to once in a while look back in retrospect and reflect at things that ultimately matter. 

"12 Years a Slave", undoubtedly one of the best films of 2013, is hardly a crash course about the historical scope of slavery, or even a cinematic indictment of all its evils. Looking at it personally, the film is essentially a story of resilience in a time when hope usually gets swatted away by condescending slaps and skin-tearing whiplashes. And kudos to Steve McQueen, who has finally made a relatively mainstream film but was still able to preserve his trademark aesthetics (that unsettling long take when Solomon Northup is hanging on a tree), he has created another film, after "Hunger", that marvels at the strength of the human spirit and makes the pain of proving it seem yet again palpable and all too real.

FINAL RATING 

Lincoln (Steven Spielberg)

Honest Abe.

Honest Abe, the Liberator, the Great Emancipator. Throughout the course of human history, or to be more exact, the human understanding of history, Abraham Lincoln has always been highly considered as a pinnacle icon of human nobility, and numerous films have been made about him. From John Ford's "Young Mr. Lincoln" (starring Henry Fonda) to the insanely random "Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter", Honest Abe has always been ubiquitous in the annals of cinema. But do you know what's the only thing lacking? Yes, you've guessed right, a proper biopic that would cater to a modern audience. And that, my friends, is just what director Steven Spielberg has given us: a version of Abraham Lincoln that wouldn't kill vampires for pleasure or would just serve as a supporting snippet for a Nostradamus documentary (D.W. Griffith's "Abraham Lincoln") but one that would really make us feel how it is to be a pressured leader whose sole purpose is to deliver his country from prejudice and bondage. 

     

It of course stars one of the greatest actors of our time, Daniel Day-Lewis, as the eponymous American president, a role that has deservedly given him his third Academy Award (although my heart still have a soft spot for Joaquin Phoenix's performance in "The Master"). Even from this film's early stages of pre-production, I was keen enough to follow the latest developments, specifically when Liam Neeson has surprisingly decided to vacate the lead role. In a way, when Neeson left the cast, I thought the film will certainly be shelved. But then, the great news has struck me: according to reports, Daniel Day-Lewis has agreed to replace Neeson as Lincoln. And then just like that, the film's first production picture, that of DDL sitting with a humble grin, came out; Day-Lewis, even in his casual, non-19th century garb, looks spot-on as the much-venerated president. From that moment on, with him looking more Abraham Lincoln than Abraham Lincoln himself, I just knew it: Daniel Day-Lewis will make history as the first actor to nab 3 Best Actor Oscars. And bless the Oracle of Delphi, made he did. 

     

Although "Lincoln", as a period biopic, sometimes lacks the particular liveliness that characterizes the genre, Day-Lewis' performance and Steve Kushner's exquisitely written screenplay was able to work hand-in-hand to carry the whole film through. And for Spielberg, who, for this film, is surprisingly subtle in his sentimentalism, his choice of where to approach Lincoln's humanity was perfect, and that is through Abe's humbling skill as a storyteller. Instead of utilizing some emotionally swaying speeches (hell, the Gettysburg address has not even seen the light of day), Spielberg has filtered Lincoln's influential personality through his witty retelling of various anecdotes and whatnot, which makes him all the more endearing and instantly reachable not just for the characters that surround him but also for us viewers. In this case, myth-making works the other way around: this time, a veneer of enigma won't certainly do Abe Lincoln's personality justice. What's needed is a dose of humble humanity and some hints of vulnerability, which this film has taken on with class. 

     

Consider the brief scene when Abe's son is sleeping on the floor. Instead of immediately bringing him to his bed, Abe, uncharacteristic of a larger-than-life leader, slowly hunched his posture and lied down on the floor with his son. Despite the film's abundance of memorable images, this is the scene that has stayed with me the most. Perhaps the film is suggesting that more than being a father of an entire nation, Lincoln is also the patriarch of a simple family, and in many cases, it's as important to be good as the latter as it is to be great as the former. 

     

Again, Spielberg was able to display his exceptional range as a director in this film; that he can be subtle as he can be emotionally preachy and that he can direct sequences of massive proportions the same way he can execute smaller scenes of emotional resonance. If ever this film has proven anything, aside of course from Daniel Day-Lewis' flawless acting prowess (not to mention the film's great supporting cast that is headlined by the great Sally Field and the grumpy-looking yet very witty Tommy Lee Jones) which has given life and character to a man whom we have never even seen in actual footage or even heard deliver speeches, then it is Spielberg's utter completeness as a filmmaker. 

     

But then again, after all is said and done, this film is solely Abraham Lincoln's: A man who has shaken the status quo for the sake of a higher purpose, a man who has delivered America from the ruthless hands of slavery, and a man who, simply put, has forever changed the face of human history.

FINAL RATING

Zabriskie Point (Michelangelo Antonioni)

Free love.

At the height of the American counterculture scene, a certain auteur named Michelangelo Antonioni, because of contractual obligations with producer Carlo Ponti and MGM, has set out to create "Zabriskie Point", an anti-consumerist film about the tattered fabrics of late '60s Americana. As we all know, the film, after being a critical and commercial disaster upon its initial release, has since amassed, among viewers, a silent cult following.

     

For a film about counterculture (or, to a certain extent, even entirely counter-American), such 360-degree turn in terms of audience perception is just rebelliously perfect. In a way, it's as if the film, after being initially misunderstood, has emerged victorious against an improbable adversary. Antonioni, an artistic outsider merely dipping his fingers in a culture he does not fully understand, is an image of elegant audacity. But because of his perennially indifferent approach to emotions and a tad too reserved an execution, "Zabriskie Point" does not quite reach the utmost potential it most certainly has.

     

Nevertheless, the film, for what it is worth both in the context of American culture and in the context of Antonioni's pulse as a filmmaker, is still quite a unique triumph. In a tumultuous time when demonstrations and cries of protests were brash and recklessly loud, "Zabriskie Point" is a film of quiet anger. And in the pages of Antonioni's cinematic play book, this is a most definitive approach.

     

Depending highly on symbolic visual manifestations (the imagined mass orgy representing sexual liberation; the film's destruction of consumerist products captured in slow-motion) rather than on obvious imagery and contrived scenarios, the film feels fresh and, typical to Antonioni, alien.

     

For the record, "Zabriskie Point" is never the definitive, all-American counterculture film. Instead, what the film actually represents, on Antonioni's part, is something personal and culturally detached. This is, after all, Antonioni's sarcastic love poem to America. By often framing his characters in front of commercial billboards displaying sandwich spread products and corporation names, Michaelangelo Antonioni was able to enforce his critique of the American 'way' without looking forced and too satirical. So "Zabriskie Point", in a way, is less a film than it is a state of mind.

     

Typical to Antonioni's thematic style, the film wallows less on the nuances of humanity but more on why people are slowly losing it. In this film's case, 'capitalism' and 'mass consumerism' are the main culprits. But before everything goes too far, I do not think that the film is entirely political or even completely radical. If anything else, "Zabriskie Point" purely wallows on the futility of activism. That after all, making an anti-establishment film is just like writing an anti-glacier book (kudos to Kurt Vonnegut). Alas, Antonioni's indifferent brand of cinema, which has earned him both fans and detractors alike throughout the years, has worked yet again, and quite fascinating at that. Through the use of on-screen movements rather than words and dialogues, he was able to convincingly capture the essence of 'free love' during the time.

     

The great example for this is the scene when our two protagonists, one a beautiful anthropology student (riding a car) and the other a rebellious young man (riding a small plane), show their subtle endearment to each other by way of "North by Northwest-esque" aerial communication. As touching as it is strange, Antonioni has made use of two very American manufactured products (the car and the plane) and turned them into objects that bridge human connection. And then of course, there's that famous orgy scene, performed with dream-like abandon by the Open Theatre and beautified by Pink Floyd's transcendental music. Moreover, the film, by highlighting both the barren landscapes of the empty, titular part of Death Valley and the hustle and bustle life within the product-emblazoned corners of mainstream America, is also a textbook exercise in great visual contrast.

     

Generally speaking, "Zabriskie Point's" reputation was indeed highly damaged by the notoriety of its initial reception. For the film's producer and distributor, such failure spiels apocalyptic repercussions. But for a director like Antonioni, a man who is never new to countless boos and walk-outs (the Cannes screening of "L'avventura" comes to mind), such reaction is not a blemish to his ego nor his career but a mere solidification of his utterly divisive and infuriating power as a filmmaker.

     

For some directors, a picture of "Zabriskie Point's" quality can already be considered as a pinnacle. But for Antonioni, it's a mere frolic within the western movie system that he despises the most, and the joke's on them.

FINAL RATING

'Merika (Gil Portes)

Contemplating a decision.

Combining suspicious love with the sentiments and longing of America-dwelling Filipinos whose minds and hearts continually goes through conflicts of decisions, some slight politics that highlights helpless idealism and the brewing turmoil of 80's Philippines, you get "'Merika". It stars Nora Aunor and Bembol Roco, which gave effectively contrasting performances regarding the different sides of state of minds of Filipinos on foreign lands.

We see Bembol's character Mon embrace and patronize the commercial and financial advantages of living in 'Tate' with some sort of distorted pragmatism, even going as far as calling the Philippines as an 'impractical hell'. This is where Bembol Roco really shined through the whole film. He displayed this closeted arrogance and colonial mindset with suppressed aggressiveness. He announces his extreme admiration with the American way of life with depleted shouts and air of mystery, fancying wines yet with glaring eyes that suggests something ominously deficient in his wholeness: He does not have any legal papers.

I cannot say that he is the direct antagonist of the film; his Mon is a very complicated character trapped in a situation that he is willing to get out of but has seemingly accepted a long time ago. He goes on a cycle of foreign existence, treading luxuries of expensive wines and credited cars. Yet, I still think he wants love more than anything else; it's just that he's too consumed by the minute details of the ideal, commercial western lifestyle that he considers the rest of his narrow world nothing more than minuscule.

Even before Mr. Bembol Roco triggered his persona as a stereotypical villain, psychotically speaking, of Philippine cinema, I think this is his most ambiguously villainous performance in the sense of how his character considerably preys on everything advantageous, yet through his eyes, there's a hint of a primordial defeat. In a sense, he has embraced not just the entirety of the American way, but also his embittered helplessness. Finding Mila (Nora Aunor's character), he located a two-way victory: Easy romance and his papers. His two ways versus her existential crossroad.

Nora Aunor's Mila is a striving nurse that gets more than enough income but less than enough sense of belonging. Again, like most of her characters on screen, Mila is torn between the budding idea of love (that teeters between quiet desperation and sexual victory) and a clamor for the true one (the Philippines. Yes, sentimental it maybe, but it's how it is) she has left behind. Mila is, in some ways, the 'Dorothy' to America's 'Oz'. She discovered the ease of income, the company of some friends, and the pure wonder of commercialism at its peak, like how Dorothy befriended some colorful eccentrics and established herself as a figure for the further adventures of the yellow brick road.

It may seem unsound to compare a timeless fantasy tale to a film dealing with the confusion of one's foreign integration, but it's the first analogy that came into my mind. And though 'Oz' came out much more colorful than the sepia-toned Kansas, Dorothy couldn't have said it better: "There's no place like home."

"'Merika", penned by Doy Del Mundo Jr. and Gil Quito and directed by Gil Portes, does not necessarily discourage those trying their lucks to align themselves with the promises of 'Tate'. It has shown different perspectives, and though Mila, the chief protagonist, ultimately came into a critical decision, the film strengthened its stance that it was her choice and hers alone; the film instead divulge the idea of easement and hope and the grounded summation that individualism and a concrete goal are the ones that are truly vital against alienating anxieties more than anything else. With that thematic direction, I think "'Merika" highly succeeded.

FINAL RATING

Across the Universe (Julie Taymor)

'A spot on a random haze.'

With all its moody visuals and a combination of acid psychedelia and some satiric doses regarding the Vietnam War (especially the "I Want You (She's So Heavy)" sequence), "Across the Universe" is also filled with great sequences that at times are even better than it's sum. It's also a refreshing reverberation of the musical genre, a film that did not compose any songs to substitute as verbal lines for its characters, but narrates a romantic tale set during late 60's America through bona fide Beatles classics that have individual stories, sensibilities and messages of their own that the film has successfully merged to create an emotionally coherent whole that brilliantly explores the counter cultural scene amidst the paranoia and protests, set during the waning days of the great American pretense towards conservatism.

Yes, I know 'The Beatles'. I know their names. I'm aware that John Lennon was killed by Mark David Chapman. But all of those are nothing but pure information, so having the idea that not all people know (or even 'like') the Beatles and their music that much (except the likes of "Hey Jude"), "Across the Universe" has given their songs vibrant visual accompaniments to appeal to both the immediate aesthetics and the deeper emotions about the idea of a transcendental love; and there's even politics on the side.

For some, watching the film without enough knowledge of the said songs, may be an alienating experience. But with the creators' (especially director Julie Taymor who has weaved it all together) awareness about the probability of a thematic and contextual misunderstanding that may put down the film's connection with its potential audience, the film ended up having a hint of familiarity within us all. No, not just as a piece of musical to make us celebrate the Beatles' established legend (though that can be a bonus), but as a film ranging from sweet to nightmarish conceived to touch, affect, emotionally stimulate, and even violate us viewers with its overall display and content.

The performances, although generally good, isn't what's important in the film. Yes, it's the characters' story to share, but they are just a spot on a random haze. A slight blur on a sharp crowd. Yes, it's their feelings, but it's all heading and converging towards a common sentiment. A steady bond in the middle of an era of uncertainty and fear that may just as well go by overlooked and neglected. But with the help of songs looking for love, change, and connection, "Across the Universe" has given these 'nobodies' an uncommon voice, with some colorful alterations to back it up and great music to make sure it will certainly be heard.

I went to watch it knowing that the story will be progressively put into motion by Beatles songs; as the film ends, its prolonged grasp on my emotions tightens its hold like a tender hug. Yes, the narrative was surely and convincingly moved by the songs, but so was I.

FINAL RATING