The Grandmaster (Wong Kar-wai)

Master Yip.

Yip Man, whose life is a common favorite among filmmakers to interpret and is also perhaps the Asian cinematic equivalent of Abraham Lincoln, headlines yet another film about his chain-punching exploits. But this time, we've got a cinematic heavyweight at the helm in the form of Wong Kar-wai. Plus, we've got the Asian king of cool Tony Leung Chiu Wai as Yip Man himself. Despite the question of "The Grandmaster's" true necessity as a biopic (the 2008 Donnie Yen-starrer "Ip Man" may have already sufficed), the film has nonetheless sparked immediate interest among cinephiles because, why wouldn't it? It has Wong Kar-wai and Tony Leung Chiu Wai in it, not to mention that Zhang Ziyi (Zhang Ziyi!) is also part of it. It also has an amazing cinematography and an obvious promise for some solid, kick-ass martial arts action. Now who would not figuratively jizz all over such a project?

     

Set in Foshan a few years before the Japanese occupation (but then again, so was the Donnie Yen film), "The Grandmaster" chronicles, through Wong Kar-wai's trademark, quasi-poetic visual style, Ip Man's well-deserved rise to high esteem as a martial arts master and sudden fall as a wartime-stricken citizen. The film also fascinates by highlighting the fact that a brothel, named the "Golden Pavilion", has been the favorite haven among martial artists (and also the most preferred venue for their fisticuffs) during the time. Well, let's just say that it's kind of like the early 20th century equivalent of those modern, organic coffee shops and the masters themselves as the hipsters that inhabit them. Things indeed just recur. 

     

In a nutshell, well, the film is basically about this bunch of high-flying, philosophy-uttering bohemians who fight for some obsolete sense of pride, respect and discipline, even amidst a time of guns, bombs and widespread hunger. Surely, it was a fascinating thing to tackle, especially since the earlier "Ip Man" film is so much more focused on a bombastically illusory narrative (its title should have been "Ip Man vs. Japan") more than Yip Man's intensely spiritual personality. But still, "The Grandmaster" is, after all, supposed to be a martial arts film, and Tony Leung Chiu Wai, basically, is supposed to kick some ass. Heavy philosophizing, for me, should belong in other films. Hell, even his eventual student Bruce Lee, who also had his share of martial arts movies, would certainly agree. You don't mix forced dramatics, contrived verbal symbolism and uncalled-for romance with some good ol' bone-cracking action because, sooner or later, it would definitely overwhelm what the film is really destined to be. And alas, that's exactly what happened with "The Grandmaster". 

     

In some sense, the film has even lost itself halfway by not being about Yip Man anymore. Instead, it has problematically focused on what is an otherwise very sub-par revenge narrative instigated by what is otherwise a very forgettable character in the form of Zhang Ziyi's Gong Er. Now, that's two aspects right there that "The Grandmaster" has missed its mark on: first on being a true martial arts film, and second on being a memorable biopic.  

     

As for the imagery, well, you really wouldn't expect anything short of brilliant from Wong Kar-wai. Dream-like in its execution and peppered with Wong's fevered slow-motion shots, the film's visuals flow like an achingly beautiful lullaby. Suddenly, shades of Zhang Yimou's more reflective martial arts films come to mind. But then again, "The Grandmaster" is too weak and indecisive regarding what its narrative really wants to cover and whether its fight scenes were there to really matter that the film ultimately achieved only a third of its potential greatness. Sadly, the film is an 'almost' masterpiece. And with 'almost', I mean stuck in a gas station two miles away from its supposed destination. It really could have been so much more.

FINAL RATING 

Hitchcock (Sacha Gervasi)

Here's lookin' at you.

Alright, before anything else, I just want to express my utter disappointment on this film for not even hinting at Hitch's Ovophobia (fear of eggs). There I said it. Moving on…

Biography films are not given enough credit for being trickier to execute than how it looks. For them to be successful, they must highlight the life of the man/woman they're focusing on with sheer definitiveness and completeness that people would not look for any further films. This has been the very problem that has plagued seemingly incomplete biopics such as "Ali", the Will Smith-starrer which has chronicled the boxer's life only until his fight in Zaire with George Foreman; hardly the best way to end a story about one of the great icons of modern sports history. And hell, even "Capote", a great Oscar attention-grabber during its time, was deemed not perfect enough that a second-tier film about the exact same subject, entitled "Infamous", was conceived. What I mean is that for a biopic to be effective, one must begin and end it at a certain highlight of the person's life which we can all deem as his greatest (or worst) moment. I think you will all agree with me: "Ali" should have ended somewhere in Manila. Even if your knowledge of boxing history is at the slightest, you know what certain pay-per-view I'm talking about. To this day, I'm still slightly disappointed as to how Michael Mann never saw the emotional potential of ending the said film at that particular segment of Ali's life. 

But on a more positive note, that biopic lesson, which was often ignored by some films of the genre, was finely heeded by "Hitchcock", a highly-polished biography of perhaps the most influential filmmaker in history. 

Yes I know, perhaps everyone's quite infuriated about the fact that the film was entitled "Hitchcock" simply because it is not, in any way, a proper chronicling of the man's life. But before we go all ruckus-minded about the matter, please be reminded that the original title is supposed to be "Alfred Hitchcock and the Making of Psycho"; sounds more like a routine special feature from a newly-remastered DVD rather than an actual film, doesn't it? Well, we should at least thank the makers for at least doing that last-minute title change.

For a supposed biopic of arguably the greatest icon of modern cinema, "Hitchcock" runs for a mere 98 minutes, which is really quite puzzling because Alfred Hitchcock is such a complex and interesting character to explore. Even his well-known 'blonde' obsession, which is a fine thing to focus upon on its own, was merely hinted at but was not given much attention. But then again, the film, based on what I have seen, merely guns for something that is playfully Hitchcockian in style (the Ed Gein scenes, the "Alfred Hitchcock Presents-esque" opening) but is also very light and, sadly, quite disposable a fare. 

Anthony Hopkins, the only actor that I believe can convincingly pull of Hitch, shines as the titular filmmaker. Although scenes of a superfluously dark-humored Hitchcock overshadow those of a more psychologically tortured one, his interpretation of the 'Master of Suspense' is, for a lack of a better term, masterful. While Helen Mirren, who's as scene-stealing as Hopkins, is effortless as Hitch's wife, Alma Reville. Because of this film, I therefore conclude that without Ms. Reville, Hitchcock could not have pulled off the horror mammoth that is "Psycho" and a whole bunch of his other masterpieces too. This then brings me again to this very tired but truthful adage: "Behind every great man is a woman". In Hitchcock's case, it sure is an icy blonde. Or that's what he has been hoping for all his life, at least.

In terms of execution, "Hitchcock" is, by and large, very conventional and ordinary. Even the insights into Hitchcock's character and the certain happenings on the set of "Psycho" I have already read on the Internet. But what makes this film quite special is its substantial inclusion of Ed Gein, the real-life serial killer who has inspired the source novel by Robert Bloch; a sort of creative liberty that has proved to be a very nice touch. Although I would have preferred it if it was Norman Bates himself (because I want to see more of James D'Arcy as Anthony Perkins/Norman Bates) and not Ed Gein who Hitchcock tries to find and identify himself to in the film's certain, dream-like scenes, it is still a flavorful extra garnish to an otherwise standard biopic. And Scarlett Johansson, despite some eager protests from fans prior to the film's release, nails Janet Leigh convincingly in a way that is sweet, safe and non-controversial.

"Hitchcock", if I am to treat the 'biopic' rules that I have mentioned above as canon, is quite a success and a failure. A success because the film was able to start and begin at perhaps Hitchcock's greatest moment (the creation of "Psycho"); a failure because some of the characters were reduced to mere caricatures. The film nailed the dark humor, the unrelenting obsession and the murderous vibe that comprise a Hitchcock film, but it lacks a more thorough psychological dimension that most biopics often tread. Ultimately, "Hitchcock" lacks the extra courage to dig through Hitch's tailored suit to look right at his heart; we were promised a quite incisive treatment of Hitchcock's persona, and we were left hanging. What we chanced upon is a film that shows us things that we've all heard, seen and read about before, and there seems to have been no effort to pick up from that and go further. Alas, there were no corpses to discover.

FINAL RATING

Basquiat (Julian Schnabel)

Jeffrey Wright as Jean-Michel Basquiat.

It is a common practice in the film world to explore the lives of painters and artists, particularly those who lived and died by their art. Jean-Michel Basquiat is surely not an exception but rather a most definitive representation of it. He gives life and form to his countless statements through graffitis, shows his messily ecstatic but ultimately epochal visions through his paintings and evokes a new voice of artistic non-conformity by way of his creations.

But then, to counter this searing passion prevalent among artists like Basquiat, the film, directed by Julian Schnabel both with an attention to content and a slight delve into the experimental, then puts all of these into a final salvo towards self-destruction. Jeffrey Wright, one of the more impressive character actors of our time, delivers an unrecognizable performance as the title role. For roles like these, stars always have this tendency to either unnecessarily steal scenes or bury the real people they're playing in the afterthought of their very own persona. This is not the case for Jeffrey Wright. As I may describe it, his performance 'took its own form, life and time'.

His on-screen rendition of Jean-Michel Basquiat developed not through an obvious 'pen and paper'-bound emotional and psychological metamorphosis but through a more simple approach: Wright, as an actor, preferred not to merely play or portray Basquiat, but to embody him. Although he does not look like the late artist himself, Jeffrey Wright achieved to embrace the role not for the sake of showcasing some superficial acting prowess but to internally channel Basquiat as a human being. This unconscious but fruitful connection between Jeffrey Wright and Jean-Michel Basquiat was particularly enhanced by the fact that Julian Schnabel is also an artist/painter.

Considering that the artistic connection is fairly established between Wright, the mythical Basquiat and Schnabel, the film, in effect, has been much more transcendental and relatively honest in its emotional backbone and at the same time, also purer in its artistic merit.

The film's cast is great, with supporting roles by Gary Oldman, Dennis Hopper, a bit of Christopher Walken as his usual patented self playing an interviewer (this therefore completes an unofficial "True Romance" cast reunion), Benicio Del Toro as Basquiat's friend and Willem Dafoe as an electrician. David Bowie is wonderful to behold as Andy Warhol, whose facial resemblance with the enigmatic pop artist himself immensely helped in his portrayal and also added some authentic weight into his performance.

Although there were scenes that were too dormant for their own good, the film is quietly successful in almost all levels, specifically on how it was able to lift itself into a higher form of human 'drama' without accidentally spelling it out with an additional 'melo'. "Basquiat", as a biopic, is quite unique in its position. The film does celebrate the short-lived life and genius of Jean-Michel Basquiat but does not overly glorify him. The film shows his bleak self-decline but does not fully capitalize in it to exaggeratedly highlight a drama that is more than the film can swallow.

"Basquiat" is urgent in its neutrality as an observer. An observer of a man whose voice was deemed as coming from the gutters but whose art was deemed as a gift. With this middle ground stance, the film, with a great black and white look upon the short and bittersweet life of a "young black painter in a white art world", is an uncommon triumph.

FINAL RATING

Monster (Patty Jenkins)

Charlize Theron in an Oscar-winning performance as serial killer Aileen Wuornos.

What make serial killers seem to be subjects of mystery and perplex are the constant speculations and certain inconsistencies as to how painful and deeply scarred their pasts really were to justify and serve as valid arguments as to why they have done their atrocious deeds. What made Ted Bundy rape and kill? What triggered John Wayne Gacy to don that creepy clown costume, take on that 'Pogo' persona and do the same? This particularly distances Aileen Wuornos (at least on how the film has portrayed her and her motivational catalyst to kill) from such human abominations.

There's never an abnormal impulse within her to murder save for her desperation and for survival. Here's a real-life killer and high-way prostitute whose casualties are not the result of psychological distortions but of a mind rendered numb not mainly by a traumatic past (her being raped by a family friend and countless other instances) but by its concentrated manifestation into the present. At some point, I even see the cinematic Aileen Wuornos as some sort of an unknowing vigilante that only kills those who deserve it and, in the bitter end, if only it's circumstantially necessary.

"Monster", of course not considered as a straight-laced biopic, is part-stigmatic romance and part-road film but overall an engrossing drama of a woman's internal conflict hopelessly and helplessly taken to the extremes. This merge of meager sub-genres is, without a doubt, heightened at every pace by Charlize Theron's legendary performance as Aileen Wuornos, although I really think that it fully transcends the simple concept of the term 'performance'.

There were leading portrayals in many biopics that whatever make-up you put unto the actor's/actress' face, no matter how much characteristic emulations bordering impersonation they may take on, they simply cannot work for the sole reason that you can easily see what's under those biographical skins and how they were more an exercise of a star's outer acting range rather than a deeply felt performance piece.

For Charlize, there's a sense of bitter, almost teary-eyed urgency in her Aileen Wuornos, and an obscure side that she's more than eager to tell. Along with her disturbing but incredibly human portrayal of Aileen Wuornos, it's understandable to put a younger and more naive fictionalized lover on her side in the form of Selby Wall (Christina Ricci in a powerfully understated role) to really add some more weight to Aileen's motivations for money and a clear-cut reason for her to thrive on living. There were these poignantly sad scenes where Aileen Wuornos, determined to lead a normal life and quit a lifetime of hooking, awkwardly set on to apply for jobs she's less than under-qualified to pursue.

From these we see her potential for a legitimate social existence, and also from these, backed by her narration that tells of the flowery words about success that she has heard from a known band's drummer when she was 13 years old, we see and hear her simultaneous concession to the fact that life is not always about chasing dreams and all that 'rich' and 'famous' bullshit but is in fact, quite simply, just bullshit, and 'prostitution' is at its very tip.

A film beautifully photographed by Steven Bernstein and written and directed by Patty Jenkins with sheer but not overly biased empathy, "Monster" destroys the claim that apathy and nihilism are the only thing that runs through someone like Aileen's mind; sometimes, in her case, it's an act to lash out against an unforgiving social state that just sadly and uncontrollably went too far, which leads us to the film's very title, "Monster".

Is it pertaining to Aileen herself, to the outer forces that have abnormally molded her to what she has become, or a combination of both? I very much prefer it to pertain to the Ferris wheel that she has repeatedly mentioned throughout the film. An emotional retreat and a rare innocent slate of her existence. Let's let her have that.

P.S. A perfect companion piece to Kimberly Peirce's equally great "Boys Don't Cry".

FINAL RATING

Walk the Line (James Mangold)

'The Man in Black'.

"Walk the Line" is, without a doubt, one of those typical biopics that follow the 'redemption' dramatic formula as its narrative pattern. But armed with top-notch performances by Joaquin Phoenix as Johnny Cash and Reese Witherspoon as June Carter, the film achieved to be more than just another 'biopic' film. Of course it is strictly about Cash's initial rise, self-destructive fall and rise again as a musical icon, but it's also a subtly observant film that focuses about these two people's unorthodox human connection and the greatness of a slow-moving love.

Notice how in many films that tread the 'redemption' process as what I've mentioned above, the people to which the biopic is specifically center-weighted for typically goes through rushed marriages and easy romances with their better halves(see "People vs. Larry Flynt" and the classic "Raging Bull"), only bringing about problems on the way. "Walk the Line" (and Cash's romantic life) expresses utmost differentiation.

Sure, Johnny Cash's marriage with Vivian (played by Ginnifer Goodwin) was tackled in a fairly quick exposition, but with the film mainly about Cash's fascinating emotional exploits with June more than it is about his emotional and domestic problems with his initial wife, "Walk the Line", with a refreshingly patient direction by James Mangold, treated this Cash-Carter bond as a slow-burning fire. Fire that is occasionally being blown off by the wind, but still strives on with its flame.

Trickier as it may look to pull that extra-marital vibe off, the idea of being 'tricky' does not start there. It starts within the internalization of the actors themselves. James Mangold once mentioned in the "Becoming Cash/Becoming Carter" featurette that he is not concerned about whether or not Joaquin Phoenix would properly impersonate and emulate Cash's distinct gestures and facial expressions. What's important to him is the 'interpretation'. He is indeed more than correct.

I have seen images of the real Johnny Cash and trust me, aside from the slicked back hair, the facial structure of Cash and Phoenix are far from even being remotely similar. But guess what? Phoenix, for how much time he stayed on-screen, embodied the destructively alienating, non-conformist nature of the 'Man in Black', complete with powerful facial translations of a constantly self-debilitating internal conflict.

Phoenix, with a uniquely quiet intensity that is only his own, is such an inspired casting choice. Mangold could have gone for leading actors better-suited for the marquees but he chose not to. Besides, as what I've seen in his visual and dramatic treatment for "Walk the Line", the film is never made to be the usual Hollywood biographical offering. Aside from the common elements such as the non-linear opening scene, the childhood flashback and the aforementioned 'redemption' format, it's very different in context.

Sure, Cash came back, sober and all, to the music that he himself has nurtured and many people have since came to love with a better sense of inner peace. For some 'biopic'-fleshed main characters, coming back into a once abandoned limelight means going through a process of physical and mental self-improvement. A 'process' so honey-glazed that it seems too tiring and one-dimensional.

Cash, on the other hand, came back, black-clad, a slicked back hair and a voice colder than the night than it ever was before, to record live inside a maximum security prison while ridiculing its warden and critiquing its yellowish drinking water in the process. Talk about stern anti-authoritarian stance and a pair of steel cojones.

"Behind every great man is a great woman". That quote perfectly fits within "Walk the Line's" 'great love conquers all' theme, but I think it's better to rephrase that as "Beside every great man is a great woman". Johnny and June duet, don't they?

FINAL RATING

Ali (Michael Mann)

A physically convincing Will Smith as Muhammad Ali.

Film Review Archive (date seen: November 15, 2010)

A good biopic for a 'great' icon (which of course connotes that it's not good enough), and although it runs in an epic 2 and a half hours, I still felt that it's too short to really capture his momentous spirit, both on mic, in ring, or alone. And with it climaxing and ending on the "Rumble in the Jungle" pay per view in Zaire, it has furthered the fact that with all its unrelenting build-up, the film has reached nowhere.

Though I think that the Ali-Foreman bout in Africa is a great way to end a biography film on a high, optimistic note, personally, I think it's better to show the latter days of Ali's career, and because I'm a Filipino, I'm a sucker for some cinematic depiction of the Araneta "Thrilla in Manila" fight. Scanning through mainstream African-American talents in Hollywood, Will Smith really is the perfect choice to play both the loud mouth exterior and the introspective interior. His physical stature's a given, and with Mr. Smith having some rap music background, his tongue can easily catch up with Ali's improvised, rhyming phonetics aimed to discredit his ring opponents.

"Ali", though thematically unsure especially at the last moments, is more than a boxing biopic film. It treads not just the literal and inner battles of Ali, but also his strong stance against racial inequality and his political viewpoints that led to his refusal of being drafted to the Vietnam War and the subsequent stripping of his title.

Before, as I've watched existing footages of Ali and his rambunctious antics, I always thought of him as an arrogant athlete not worthy of his title. But then, after watching this film, with his personal beliefs all exposed, in a time of racial tension and religious prejudice, he merely stood up for what he thought to be worth standing for. And almost 50 years later, Ali still is one of the ultimate representatives of a great, defiant spirit; that which would not falter in the face of an overwhelming adversity, and I'm not even talking about Frazier or Foreman. Many boxers have since imitated his flamboyance, but only a few of them knew what it was really all about.

FINAL RATING