Let the Right One In (Tomas Alfredson)

Eli.

Hindered by an unrelenting flow of school works and an unexpected visit of a debilitating headache, my film viewing momentum, as compared to last month, was relatively slowed down, to say the least. But nonetheless, I was still able to muster enough strength to watch two films, and this one counts as the first. Of course, with "Let the Right One In" being about a gothic love story between a bullied pre-adolescent boy and an isolated vampire girl, jokes about how this film is 'a much better love story than "Twilight"' will surely enter the discourse, which is, by the way, increasingly becoming very irritating. 

     

In more ways than one, "Let the Right One In", a film that merely runs for no longer than two hours, has perhaps captured the essence of a bloodthirsty romance without much narrative stretching (recall the "Twilight" 'saga') and unneeded sparkles. Starring two completely unknown actors, the film, set in the frozen landscapes of Blackeberg (in Stockholm), is about a deeply unsettling yet strangely charming romance between two youngsters, the introvert Oskar (Kåre Hedebrant) and the enigmatic Eli (Lina Leandersson), and how it affects, in unpredictable and horrific ways, the seemingly sterile existence of those around them. 

     

With Tomas Alfredson being a filmmaker that prioritizes unnerving silence, motionlessness and deliberate yet tense pacing (which is also evident in his later film "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy") more than uncalled-for thrills and cheap cinematic trickeries, "Let the Right One In" was able to channel the story's highly supernatural premise with an infinitely more organic feel. With Alfredson being quite open about his nonchalant perspective towards the vampire mythos, he has completely removed the devilishly mythological aura that encapsulates the iconic vampire persona (only retaining the most basic ones, such as how the creature is easily burnt by sunlight, how they are quite immortal etc.) and instead overpowers it only with the very core essence of what motivates vampires to kill: their unquenchable thirst for blood. 

     

With only these vampiric elements intact, Tomas Alfredson, although still conscious of the legendary stature of the creature he is tackling, has unexpectedly created something "John Hughes-esque" in the process, which easily connects with the audience on an emotional and personal level despite the fact that the film is centered on the blood trails of a young vampire. Alas, "Let the Right One In", a film that balances out the drama, comedy and uneasy love found deep within the heart of pre-adolescent existence, is indeed a very affectionate coming-of-age drama. And amid the film's shocking displays of blood-drenched violence, the film's themes were still compelling enough to power through the film's surface horrors and tell what might be, in a relatively long while, the most weirdly endearing tale of young love there is and also realize one of the most visually and thematically provocative explorations of a perfect yet seemingly improbable romantic connection found at the unlikeliest of situations (the film, after all, is based on a novel). 

     

But if there ever was an aspect that I admire most about "Let the Right One In", then it is how it has managed to make a vampire as formidably scary as possible yet was also able to tread the possibility that, after all, those vampiric hearts that vampire hunters keep on stabbing may just be beating cold meats waiting to let the right warmth in. Regardless of their highly distorted outlook on man-woman relationships, perhaps the likes of Count Orlok can truly attest to that, and so can Eli, a blood-thirsty (not to mention immortal) young girl who may have just ironically found her salvation, purpose and emotional growth in a most mortal love.

FINAL RATING

 

Elephant (Gus Van Sant)

A 'kiss' in the room.

With a mere running time of 81 minutes, "Elephant" is a relatively short film by today's standards. But still, its succinct study of teen angst is cinematic power at its rawest form. By using unknown actors (except for Timothy Bottoms), devious long takes and painful irony, director Gus Van Sant was able to weave a film that's subtle in its societal commentary but fully incisive in its spontaneity. Though its appeal may ostensibly look as if it's a film that merely caters to hipsters and niche teenagers, "Elephant" is really much more than that. 

On one side, it is a stirring indictment of homophobia and school bullying. On the other, it's a well-realized portrait of high school life. But unlike films like "The Breakfast Club" or any other teen-oriented ones that rely on stereotypes, "Elephant" depicts its teen-aged characters not as categorized social beings but as emotionally distant and ennui-laden youngsters that are in for the whole pointlessness of it all because, hell, they don't have any choice. To channel the realistically free-flowing randomness of high school life, Gus Van Sant shot the film entirely in a series of long takes and multiple points of view to create a "Rashomon-like" perspective on things and also to give the seemingly stagnant Watt High School (fictitious) some sort of dimension. 

In addition, Van Sant has also decided to shoot the majority of his characters from behind (which sometimes renders them faceless) so that, in a way, we wouldn't care for them that much when they become nothing but casualties. For me, this is particularly cruel on Gus Van Sant's part, but in some respect, it's also the rightful thing to do. He has purposefully deprived us of any of the characters' faces and back stories so that we wouldn't be attached to them that much when things go out of hand. 

In the end, Van Sant has shown how fervently humanistic he is. He cares for his characters and he cares for us too. He knows that pain is just around the corner, so in an act of goodwill, he makes us see their backs, shoulders but never much their faces so that the pain of seeing them 'go' will not be too hurtful. Instead, he has focused his camera lenses precisely on the two characters whose irrational gun assault to the aforementioned high school students echoes the tragedy that is the Columbine shooting. But still, Van Sant has also depicted them in a way that’s also worthy of empathy. 

Indeed, there's no denying the fact that these two students have gone out of hand in their line of thinking. In one scene, as they map out their plan for their school rampage, they have even reminded each other to 'have fun'. But looking at it, they are also victims here. So if it's not really them, who are the real culprits then? Was it their parents that are at fault here? Perhaps, but the real suspect here, aside from these two students, is mass media and the brutal extent of our homophobic society. Mass media because it is the one that has welcomed these two to the fact that shooting people is just as easy as breathing (mainly through video games), and society because it is the one that has created this notion that people who may try to come out of the closet will be utterly crucified and laughed at. That, aside from the very sight of the shooting, is what's most disturbing in the film. 

"Elephant", one of the most deeply unsettling and harrowing films in recent memory, is also a very sensible, understanding and gently elegiac film that has brought these putrid social truths into the forefronts of cinematic discourse. Yes, "Elephant" is outright troubling, but it's also quite enlightening.

FINAL RATING 

Super 8 (J.J. Abrams)

The kids staring at a potential 'production value'.

Just like the case with Tobe Hooper's "Poltergeist", "Super 8" will certainly be more remembered as a Spielberg-produced spectacle than it is a J.J. Abrams-directed film. Abrams, who in my opinion has not proved anything yet in terms of cinematic imagination and vision (a full-length directorial resume that merely boasts of a "Mission: Impossible" sequel and a "Star Trek" reboot) because of the fact that he does not necessarily have to start from scratch from those film projects, could have capitalized on "Super 8" as his genuine coming-out party. But instead, what he did is ride on Spielberg's sci-fi, kid-friendly, wholesome fixation on aliens (come on, let's not pretend that extraterrestrials aren't the ones involved) and became somewhat an obligatory man on the helm to carry out the superstar director's 'been there, done that, seen that, heard that' concept. And worst of all, seemingly with puppet strings attached.

Yes, "Super 8" is a gargantuan letdown for me, but not because of the film's tired content and mindless use of explosions and CGIs in its clumsy second-half, but because of its broken promise to deliver something new and bring forth an intriguingly-themed film to reverberate the once prosperous conceptual disposal of the science fiction genre that is slowly running out of stock. Now come on, do not pretend that you have not felt even the slightest bit of curiosity when you've seen the enticingly minimalist trailer. It's the main reason why I have even seen "Super 8" in the first place. And also mainly due to the hyped nostalgic feel that comes along with it that may potentially bring the stellar, one of a kind atmospheres of Spielberg's "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" and "E.T." back to prominence for a new generation of audiences to see.

Now granted, the premise of the film is new and quite puzzling, inspires revelatory anticipation and its opening sequence up to somewhere before all those prolonged forebodings (come on, how can you maintain a strong sense of silent menace when you have heard that otherworldly creature's wail before? "Jurassic Park's" Tyrannosaurus Rex, anyone?) is potent at a considerable degree. Even the characterizations of the kids who set on to make a short film called "The Case" about zombies and stuff, although forced and emotionally compressed just so we may properly care for them before complications start, is interestingly dramatic and naively charming.

The sad-eyed girl next door (Elle Fanning), the straight-laced main kid (Joel Courtney) and the bossy overweight one (Riley Griffiths). Oh, and there's also the cartoonish pyromaniac (Ryan Lee). Initially, they're a joy to watch, being overly animated and concerned regarding their cheesy film production and all, but in the subsequent scenes, they just plunge down along with the film's qualitative execution.

Suddenly, they are heroes. Suddenly, the sad-eyed girl is now the missing damsel in distress. Suddenly, it just all felt wrong. There's nothing bad to see those pesky kids running and fending off some shrapnel here and bits of metals there, hell they're at the peak of adolescence, they truly are supposed to run. It's an age of physical restlessness. But heroes? Really? A film which promised something different, resorting to a cute swash-buckling bunch? And in a more extreme extent, one of them as an alien persuader? Haha, I'm sorry, but no thanks.

And that grieving father/deputy character (Kyle Chandler) who even disguised his way to find out the exact truth behind it all. He never even really found anything of utter importance that may serve as a solution. The next thing I know, he's there, with his child, looking up into some out of this world creature and subliminally saying goodbye.

Oh please, that abomination is far worse looking than those in "District 9". And aside from the inability to move on which the deputy character and the alien indirectly share (one emotionally and the other quite literally), there's no bond between them whatsoever, so weeping and a sense of longing shouldn't have even been an option for the first.

"Super 8", although a bit inappropriately titled, could have been an above average science fiction blockbuster fare. It's got these mysteriously looming vibes surrounding it. It has good leads and it's packed with suspense and thrill-a-minute laughs. If only those are rationed in exact moments and its forebodings ultimately leading into a creature worth the wait, the build-up and the running time, "Super 8" could have been infinitely better.

The kids' cheesy, awkwardly edited zombie flick "The Case", which was shown during the end credits, turned out to be the real highlight of the film. It's momentarily fun to watch, but it's hardly worth my money.

Director J.J. Abrams and executive producer Steven Spielberg, who tried to revisit the old ways to thrill, let us feel and make us believe, came silently blazing with "Super 8" in their hands, but with all the grumpy old cliches holding on tight along with them. And an ugly alien.

FINAL RATING

Fat Girl (Catherine Breillat)

Eating.

Adolescent sexuality. It's a theme too sensitive and downright naive to really expose in such a raw, disturbing and depressing light. Yet that's actually what director Catherine Breillat has done in "Fat Girl": A thorough exploration of early sexual awakening, abstract sibling relationships and artificial promiscuity that ultimately leads into disintegration.

I really think that with a more light-handed filmmaker, the theme could have been made and executed as a bittersweet tale of gullible love seen through the eyes of a fertile and curious girl. But given that a sensible approach to the issues tackled by the film is much more preferable, "Fat Girl" neglected all of these and instead hovered around its characters with detached apathy. And putting an ambiguous, fantasizing, ennui-stricken female character in its center both as an observant and observed does not just complicate the matter, it also puts the film into a critical extremity.

Call it depressing, call it exploitative, but by all means, "Fat Girl" delivered what it has intended to, and also puts into exposition and emphasis those that should have been otherwise. And just like Gaspar Noe's works, the film has displayed uncommon bravery.

The film is chiefly about the relationship between 15-year-old Elena (Roxane Mesquida) and her sister Anais (Anais Reboux in a very daring performance). The opening scene, after we heard Anais' haunting song and saw her dead set stare, we are introduced to the relational condition of the siblings. We hear the words 'fat slob' and 'loose morals' hurled at each other devoid of any verbal emotions. They walk shoulder to shoulder through the woods and into the streets but they're of the opposite looks and mindsets.

Anais, an overweight girl, states that first-time sex should be with anybody, while Elena, a beautiful 'Lolita-like' teenager, suggests the generalized importance and pleasures of 'sleeping' around with many. It's a conversation captured with such normality and spontaneity that it makes it more disquieting.

How did such girls at a tender age know too much and very opinionated about things they shouldn't be hearing about in the first place? Catherine Breillat brings us into an alternate reality of France where it's not all about the elegance of love and romance, but a washed-out place (both in color and moral fiber) where the idea of sex is messy and sudden while the concept of virginity is not about its preservation but to whom it must be lost and why.

"Fat Girl" also delves into sexuality to which physical carnality is endlessly fantasized while the context of true love contained within it is superficial at best. As I hear the narcissistic Fernando's (Libero De Rienzo) promises to Elena as he fondles her virginal body, it sickens me. Through that specific sequence, Breillat also gives out a statement about how sweetened, unfulfilled pledges is an easy way 'in' into cheap romances and also the easiest way out.

Yet the essence of the sisters' relationship does not start and end on sexual commentaries. We are also compelled to notice the sisters' 'love-hate' connection. One sequence, we see them throw dry insults at each other as if they have a scorned relational void rotten by time. But in the next, they suddenly hug each other. Insult, hate, laugh, laugh, hate, insult.

It's their cycle, but is there an absolute? What is the true weather of their bond? "Fat Girl" presented it with such disfigured profundity (highlighted by how Elena and Anais recalled their childhood and how they compare themselves in front of a mirror) that it seems futile to look deep enough and as if both of them locked up the answers and covered it up with their one-bit fantasies.

Graphic and at times, emotionally disorienting, this is the antithesis to shallow teenage films talking about 'cute guys' and 'first dates', "Fat Girl" rests upon a dark truth within adolescent existence; 'truth' which do not just come like a gentle revelation, but one bent on shattering the windshields of escapism to present us with certain uncomfortable notions, but those that are ultimately in touch with reality.

The film is widely known to have a very 'controversial' and 'shocking' ending. I do not like hype, but "Fat Girl's" final sequence lives up to its notoriety. Quite ironic considering that it's about victory.

FINAL RATING