Perfume: The Story of a Murderer (Tom Tykwer)

Scent.

For some reasons unclear to me, "Perfume: The Story of a Murderer" has never really piqued my interest before. Despite the fact that the visually innovative Tom Tykwer is at the directorial helm, my inclination to watch this film is quite lukewarm at best mainly because, well, I just don't know why. But seeing the film in all its glorious bizarreness and vivid peculiarity after all of those apathetic years, "Perfume: The Story of a Murderer" has turned out to be quite an exhilarating cinematic surprise.

     

Later, I then found out that the novel on which the film was adapted from is a personal favorite of Kurt Cobain (because he was able to identify with Jean-Baptiste Grenouille's outsider mentality), which naturally leaves me even more intrigued to read it. After all, nothing beats a dose of literary alienation every now and then.

     

Starring Ben Whishaw as Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, a man born in a most conducive environment of rotten fishes and market filth who has since mastered an almost superhuman attention to scent, the film starts out in a fashion reminiscent of Danny DeVito's underrated film adaptation of Roald Dahl's "Matilda." Although on the opposite sides of the spectrum in terms of tone, atmosphere and character development, both films have captured the elusive beauty of introductory storytelling with a sort of effortless vibe, enhanced, of course, by two great narrative voices: the former being Danny DeVito's very own, and the latter being John Hurt's monastic yet commanding tenor. But before I get carried away by my comparison of a grotesquely obsessive tale to a heart-warming children's story, I'll just stop right there.

     

At the time (2006) considered as the most expensive German film ever made, that fact is very evident in how the film was visually conveyed. By maintaining the architectural grace of 18^th century Paris yet at the same time ornamenting it with the mud, dirt and decay caused by sheer overpopulation, Tom Tykwer, known for his audacious visuals (Remember "Run Lola Run?"), has convincingly turned Paris into the sort of city Charles Dickens' characters could have easily lived their respective plights on. But for Grenouille the aspiring master perfumer and scent savant, played with starry-eyed perfection by Ben Whishaw, Paris, abundantly stinky and all, is nothing but olfactory practice.

     

Despite his less than trivial birth, Grenouille knows that he is bound for something more transcendentally important, so with his grandiose ambitions intact, he then sets his eyes, err, nose, for something infinitely bigger than just merely creating a pedestrian perfume: and that is to create a scent made entirely out of natural, human fragrance. And how can he do that, you may ask? Well, watching this great film on your own to find out definitely won't hurt.

     

With great veteran talents (Dustin Hoffman and Alan Rickman) leading the way, "Perfume: The Story of a Murderer" turns out to be more than just a visual feast. Although Hoffman and Rickman's performances may slightly be criticized mainly because of the fact that they haven't tried hard enough to completely disappear into their roles (Hoffman quite labors on the Italian accent; Alan Rickman is just too Judge Turpin), the story's twisted yet serene soul more than makes up for the convincing yet fleeting performances, especially when Grenouille, the emotionally lost perfumer himself, slowly tunes up the band for the shocking final crescendo that will surely part the viewers like the Red Sea.

     

Suffice it to say, "Perfume: The Story of a Murderer" has never quite reached the relative popularity of the Patrick Süskind novel, but still, for someone who believes that film adaptations should be judged separately from their source materials, I think that this one should have received an infinitely more favorable reception. But for the sake of discourse, aren't you curious of what Kubrick may have done with this one? Or what Polanski may have added to it? Or what Scorsese may have changed? But then again, despite of those mammoth cinematic names that were, at one point or another, either attached or has shown interest to direct this film (add Ridley Scott and Milos Forman there), I still believe that this Tykwer version is enough. Like Grenouille's 'human' perfume itself, "Perfume: The Story of a Murderer" is a hypnotic creation that exudes a kind of flawed beauty so haunting and unique that you have no other choice but be willingly spellbound by it.

FINAL RATING

The Graduate (Mike Nichols)

Alright, before anything else, let me say that "The Graduate" is definitely one of the best films of all time. And I rarely brand any films with such commendations quite easily (as if I'm a somebody. Ha.). It features a more-than-worthy star-making performance by Dustin Hoffman and Anne Bancroft's memorable and definitive portrayal of a promiscuous cougar in the guise of Mrs. Robinson. Add up the beautiful songs of Simon & Garfunkel and a deeply resonant ending, we got here a masterpiece.

But when I say 'masterpiece', it's not by the standards of what the word may immediately connote (pageantry, scope, larger-than-life actors) mind you, but what this influential little film has left behind. Back in the late 60's when it was released, with much cultural changes happening in the forefronts of America, maybe its popularity has sparked mainly because its main theme hasn't been explored before. Sure it's a romantic-comedy. Sure it's a love story. But at the time prior to this, mainstream speaking, any films of the genre won't mean anything if it isn't anchored by A-list stars.

Then "The Graduate" came. It's a story of a newly graduated man. It should be happy, right? Even I thought so. The film opens with our protagonist, Benjamin Braddock (Dustin Hoffman) sitting in an airplane. He should be glad, right? the camera then follows him as he steps onto a moving walkway with his face filled with uncertainty, fearfulness and a hint of dread. Yes, he graduated, but he doesn't know what to do next. Then he encounters one of his parents' friends, Mrs. Robinson. She asks him to drive her home, offers him a drink and requested for him to unzip her dress. This should have been a meet cute film, right? After some time, he delves into a semi-guilt-ridden affair with her. Hesitant at first, he likes the idea of it, and he likes her too. But then he meets Mrs. Robinson's daughter, Elaine (Katharine Ross). He loves her at first sight but Mrs. Robinson won't allow love to bud between the two. It should have been very easy, right?

From those complications rooted out from the idea of romantic relationships, "The Graduate", based on a novel by Charles Webb, unfolded what it was all about. Of course it's mainly focused on Benjamin's elusive quest for love, but I think the film is more about his existential search for meaning and its consequences. Only from that that his two-sided encounter with love, transgressive, determined and all, was inspired. And with the help of the uncommon cinematography by Robert Surtees which occasionally focuses shots into Hoffman's face with an intent to document his subtle pain and emotional crisis through his facial expressions, "The Graduate", aside from being an unorthodox tale of romance, succeeded to show the sweltering pressure of a newly grad whose own mind dictates he's got nowhere to go.

The film is filled with many memorable sequences, but there's one great scene in it where Benjamin, wearing a scuba outfit, enters the swimming pool and in the presence of his parents and some other guests, remained standing, motionless, below the water. It's a moment that can easily be gazed upon as a random slip-in about suburban life's view of young people's successes. But through its initial first person point of view to his plunge into the pool, it finely highlights his isolation, with the water pressure translating into his own and from that bluish loneliness he seeks to find warmth. But he is cornered. By his parents. By his parents' friends. By himself.

"The Graduate", directed masterfully by Mike Nichols, is an unforgettable film. Not just because of some of its laughs or its central romantic arc, but because of its exposition of the difference between flirting with the idea of love and simply embracing it. We saw both sides, Benjamin experienced both; he preferred the euphoria of true romance. But after all, uncertainty is still in his eyes and a sole question still in his mind: "What should I do next?"

As the film ends, I can't help but give "The Graduate" a small applause and slightly scold myself as to why I haven't seen it sooner. A true classic, and what "Fargo" is to Roger Ebert (as a definitive reason as to why he loves movies), "The Graduate" is to me. It really is.

FINAL RATING

I Heart Huckabees (David O. Russell)

Dustin Hoffman and Lily Tomlin: Existential Detectives

Absurdist film filled with deep existential concepts relentlessly displayed through comic articulacy. I've read many dissenting reviews regarding the film even before I have seen it so I'm quite weary that this will be one of those pseudo-intellectual, nonsensical pretense disguised as a comedy film. But even though the alienating opening sequence (I have no idea what Jason Schwartzman's character is blabbering about) is a cautious foreboding that this won't be a usual film, I do believe that with enough patience, "I Heart Huckabees" can easily be appreciated and absorbed even by the most unenthusiastic of viewers.

It stars distinguished actors such as Dustin Hoffman, Jude Law, Mark Wahlberg, and Naomi Watts (with 'The Birds'' Tippi Hedren in a minor role), and the plot concerns depression, divisive philosophies about the universe and identity and it never stops there. This film is fueled with enough intellectual discourse to inspire debates and disgust. Even the idea of producing a brief philosophy book out of it would not be an overstatement.

Director David O. Russell, known for his eccentric temperament, seems to have found his ideal film: a film where characters populate sequences armed with enough angst, questions and disoriented energy that fully complement the nature of the situations.

Concerning machismo, 'Three Kings' may be Russell's definitive creation, but considering the sheer downpour of endless thoughts that may have bugged his psyche firsthand, this is possibly 'it'. The visual accompaniment for his supposedly erratic behavior on-sets. The exalted characters. The endlessly restless cerebral and 'physical' activities. Yes, this can be 'him'.

Amidst its tireless interior that contains stupendous amount of grounds deep inquiries that can easily be answered with practicality ('isn't coincidence just, well, a coincidence all on itself?'), "I Heart Huckabees" unfolded its true, simplistic nature via a question repeatedly uttered throughout and even included at the very end of the credits: "How am I not myself?"

Same existential question can be raised in 'Values Education' classes and within that context, it might be the film's ultimate intent: To align our inner thoughts to who we really are. I'm quite sure that I've already mentioned that line in my "Three Kings" review. Redundancy perhaps, but It can be a sign of a thematic trend.

"I Heart Huckabees" wasn't an energy-sucking 'infernal' machine as what Roger Ebert stated in his review of this film. It truly is a well-made commentary (as if it resembles one) about every person's hidden acumen that can solve inner dilemmas not through the exploration of an abyss infested with far-fetched ideas but through the fondness to expose the true, cathartic nature of ourselves.

We have already seen many films dealing with human comedy and the folly of decisions. "I Heart Huckabees", on the other hand, is the comedy of philosophy and the folly of its perceived precision.

FINAL RATING

All the President's Men (Alan J. Pakula)

The knights of the Watergate.

Film Review Archive (date seen: October 5, 2010)

Hearing and reading all about the scandals of the higher offices attached with the "-gate" suffix, it's great to arrive at where all of these have started; the political scandal that defined the 70's: The "Watergate". "All the President's Men" is to the 70's what Oliver Stone's "JFK" is to the cinema of the 90's. Both tackle and explore, with investigative purpose, some sensitive, explosive issues that can make or break, accuse or acquit.

This film, directed by Alan J. Pakula, is one of those rare ones that temporarily departs from the aesthetic pleasures the medium can offer and instead collides and focuses with hard facts and truths, leaving a bit of character arc behind (although this being based on a true story). Throughout the film, we see Bernstein and Woodward (Dustin Hoffman and Robert Redford) running, talking, and frantically typing, but we never see their characters show any semblance of depth, making them solely as instruments of a search for truth. But then, it may also have been a subtle touch, enhancing their tireless quest too much that we never had the chance to peek into their personal lives; a quiet, yet effective commentary on the "clockwork" lives of investigative journalists at their most relentless.

To this day, the "Watergate" scandal is viewed as the primary testament of a system (and its officials) too consumed by power, and Bernstein and Woodward as the puny knights that dared to bring them down. "All the President's Men" is their tale.

FINAL RATING