On the Job (Erik Matti)

Hubarin mo ang iyong maskara, upang ikaw ay makilala...

Well, what can I say? The hype was definitely spot-on. Erik Matti, whose last work is the highly enjoyable, Grindhouse-like film "Tiktik: The Aswang Chronicles", has unexpectedly shifted gears, veering himself away from the fantasy/horror elements that have since become almost synonymous with his name, to direct what may be the most intense piece of local cinema that you may ever come across for quite a while. Though I can fully understand why this was not chosen to be the Philippines' official entry to the Academy Awards, I can also fully see why Erik Matti is quite sour about it. Do not get me wrong, "Transit", what with its highly international flavor and sensitive take on foreign policies in Israel, is a powerful film in its own right. But hell, "On the Job", at least for me, is on a different level. Though it can be fairly argued that the film is, in many ways, highly indebted to either "Infernal Affairs" or "The Departed" or even "Collateral" to a certain extent in terms of plot construction and visual texture, the film is nonetheless a shining example of how to do a modern 'Pinoy' action film right. I mean, let's admit it, gone are the action movie days where a straight-laced cop played by either FPJ or Rudy Fernandez can bring down an entire system by just using his gun-toting coolness and pure brawn. Also, the era where action heroes and conniving villains ultimately settle their moral differences inside abandoned warehouses has already come and go. 

For the past few years, the action genre is as good as dead, and no filmmaker dared to lift a finger. I don't know if Matti did this film to, in a way, resuscitate it, but, hey, I don't care, because what he has created here is way more than a decent action film. As God is my witness, what I've seen is a masterpiece not just in terms of action and plot swerves, but also in terms of tension and fear. It's a thriller film without monsters in the closet, a crime film with little to no involvement from criminals, and a gangster film without actual gangsters. Perhaps the reason why 'gangster' films can never really make it big here in the Philippines (except for E.R. Ejercito's MMFF projects, of course, which are also occasional flops) is because one must not look any further than our local police force if one wants to see an actual gang operate. That, I think, is what "On the Job" is pessimistically trying to prove: that the Philippines is, and will always be, run by thugs regardless if they're wearing uniforms or not. But then again, it has been said that "pessimists are just optimists with better information", so I wouldn't entirely count out the possibility that Erik Matti himself has actually taken hold of some 'juicy' insider information about our police force while researching for the film. After all, the film is, quote unquote, "inspired by true events" so, yeah, on second thought, color me surprised if he actually has not. But still, with or without that 'juicy' information to make the film look more frighteningly legit, this one still rocks.

In terms of its visual style, the film is very, very (and I'm going to add another 'very') detailed, roughed-up, and ruggedly red-blooded. There's this scene in the film where both Tatang (Joel Torre in one of his best performances ever, bar none), a veteran hitman, and Daniel (Gerald Anderson in a great turn if not for his 'Thigalog'), the young man under his tutelage, enters a 'litsunan' somewhere in the heart of Manila to search for their poor target. With freshly-roasted swines on bamboo sticks sitting everywhere, of course, it's but an obvious symbolism on Matti's, or even production designer Richard Somes', part: that the act that these two characters are about to commit can be likened to a butcher slaughtering a pig. But outside that thematic configuration, of course, the entire atmosphere of the 'litsunan', and eventually the entirety of Manila itself, seems to slowly take on a life of its own ironically as people start to drop dead. 

Aside from the characters, everything in this film, though it is but given that "On the Job" deals largely with corruption, anxiety, and everything dreadful, feels so alive. Another case in point: the almost visually baroque rendition of the prison and how the camera glides across every hallway and room like it's some kind of a doomed labyrinth.  I know, 'poetic' is not the right term to describe the film's imagery, and neither is the word 'lyrical' (Ugh, I feel so pretentious right now). More than anything else, I think 'inspired' is the correct word. Then again, what do you expect when Erik Matti and Richard Somes ("Yanggaw", "Corazon: Ang Unang Aswang") join forces? 

Though Manila has been seen in different kinds of light all throughout the history of Philippine cinema, I've never been intimidated of its false sense of nobility (the honorable-looking police headquarters, posh hotel lobbies, and exquisite function rooms) and frightened of its abundant squalor more than here in "On the Job". I've seen my fair share of 'poverty porn' films, mind you, and these pictures have made me trust the said city less and less. But never have I seen Manila in such a state where morality seems only applicable to dogs, where blood can be shed everywhere even on dank sidewalks, and where people can die at any given time even at the comforts of their own hospital beds. Corruption is one thing, sure, but killing is another. "On the Job" may be a little bit vague about the former (the ostensibly 'straight' characters in the film doesn't really go into detail except for them stating several times that they do not want the 'mess' to reach Malacañang), but the 'killing' part? Well, what can I say? It will make you  squirm, shout profanities on whoever's next to you and then at the screen, and then squirm and shout and squirm some more. And for an action film to manage to do that? That's magic. This is the kind of filmmaking that Hitchcock, I think, was pertaining to when he once said that he enjoys playing the audience like a piano.  

The cast, comprised of seasoned veterans, is a joy to watch, as they interact in ways that may either make you smile a bit (Joey Marquez & Piolo Pascual), get a little achy in the stomach (Gerald Anderson & Joel Torre), or downright feel helpless (Piolo Pascual & Leo Martinez). Going back to my "The Departed" comparison, "On the Job" is also mounted the same way in terms of character arrangement. In "The Departed", there was Jack Nicholson serving as the Qui-Gon Jinn to Matt Damon's Obi-Wan Kenobi. On the other hand, there's Martin Sheen's Pat Morita to Leonardo DiCaprio's Ralph Macchio. Like "The Departed", "On the Job" is also a 'mentor-apprentice' film. There's Piolo Pascual's Francis Coronel Jr., an NBI agent whose puppet master of a father-in law, Manrique (Michael de Mesa), controls and dictates his every move like a dirty conscience. There's also Tatang, who not so sparingly teaches the neophyte hitman Daniel the very careful ways of killing people as if it's the most immaculate thing in the world. Now I wouldn't be a bummer here and feed you specific details and spoil your enjoyment of the film, but for the record, let's just say that these four characters will inevitably cross paths and unwittingly add fuel to the already scorching fire.

"On the Job", though ironically not for everyone, MUST be seen by everyone. It's the kind of film that may put people off with its themes but will nonetheless still persist to be seen, experienced, and then some. The film will shock, thrill, and even offend (what with its abundant use of our national expletive), but what it definitely won't do is disappoint. But if ever there's one thing I sorely regret about this film, then it is my failure to watch it on the big screen. Indie films may come and go, but this one's here to stay. Who knows? If this is the start of a new breed of Filipino action films, then our Pinoy movie diet for the next few years is already taken care of, and we only have Erik Matti, once the master of B-grade horror and fantasy films but is now shaping up to be a true action auteur in his own right perhaps ala Luc Besson, to thank for it. This one's an instant classic.

P.S. Erik Matti once did an interview for the Cinema One documentary "Indie, Mainstream, Paano Ka Ginawa?" where he stated that he hates it when international film festivals treat Filipino films as nothing but 'exotic dishes'. "Kumbaga, tayo yung balut," he then contemptuously added. With this film, in all fairness, I think he has preserved his stance regarding this issue. Not only has he created a Filipino film truly worthy of international attention, but he has also crafted something that's entirely of universal appeal. You want proof? Well, a Hollywood remake is already on its way.

FINAL RATING

The Dark Knight (Christopher Nolan)

Chaos.

Hell, if I can only turn back time just to experience this once again in a movie theater. "The Dark Knight", as much as I admire its greatness, is one of those rare films that I have never enjoyed that much inside the Cineplex but grew to love with each rewatch on DVD. This, I believe, is a mark of an 'epic' film in every sense. Wherever you may put it, whether it's on television, DVD, or the theaters, its greatness still and always will shine forth. This is also the great strength of "The Dark Knight" that's completely absent in other superhero films. Take out all its eye-popping visuals and you still have enough narrative, emotional weight, and pure characterizations to carry you through. Plus, unlike other side characters in other films of the same kind, "The Dark Knight" has characters that you would really care for. 

Jim Gordon, Bruce Wayne, Harvey Dent. The triumvirate that stands up for everything that's right. These are the characters that have risen and fallen in the epic graphic novel "The Long Halloween", and here in "The Dark Knight", their dynamics as complex allies have never been displayed more effectively, affectingly, and with appropriate justice. Gary Oldman, in his portrayal of Jim Gordon, blows his earlier "Batman Begins" performance in the water with his reprisal here. Christian Bale is also great by balancing torment and transcendence in his role as Bruce Wayne/Batman. 

With "The Dark Knight", Batman isn't just your 5 cent superhero anymore. Here is a superhero that does not merely thrive on apprehending killers and petty criminals anymore. This is also a man who refuses to lead a better life as a billionaire for the sake of protecting the one thing he believes he is destined to fight for: Gotham City. But he also knows that it is never easy. 

Fresh from thwarting Ra's Al Ghul's destructive plan against Gotham in "Batman Begins", he is now confronted here in "The Dark Knight" by a murderous agent of chaos known only as "The Joker" (played by the late Heath Ledger).

Now, this review is not for the sake of describing, commending and fully admiring Ledger's miracle of a performance as Batman's greatest foe. Words, as what has always been said, are not enough. There is indeed something in Ledger's legendary turn that doesn't just appeal to the mere aesthetics but somewhere deeper that's raw, ferocious, and animal. His 'Joker' provokes some sort of primal fear within us all; of some hidden anarchic inclination hidden deep inside all of us. 

For me, this is the ideal portrayal not just of the Joker but of human vileness pushed to the extremes. Unlike Jack Nicholson's earlier yet also iconic portrayal of the clown prince of crime which has relatively told a clear and very human back story for the Joker (He even had a pre-Joker name: Jack Napier), Ledger's is, as how Nolan has interpreted the character, a complete absolute. 

From his custom-tailored suit to his ever-changing origin stories regarding the scars on his face, this is a nameless entity forged out of the depths of utter abomination and nowhere else. This is one of those men, as what Alfred (Michael Caine) has unforgettably stated, who just want to watch the world topple and burn, and laugh with it. 

Now, with all that being said, we all know how great Ledger's performance really is, and it will truly stand the test of time as one of the best villainous roles ever performed. But aside from him, there's also one actor who stood out among the rest; and yes, he even outperformed Christian Bale, and it's none other than Aaron Eckhart as Harvey Dent/Two-Face. 

Being one of the most tragic antagonists in the history of comic books, Eckhart has captured the so-called 'white knight's' gung-ho ferocity as a brave district attorney yet has also gathered enough dramatic range to also be an empathetic character and a frighteningly vengeful soul. His Harvey Dent is someone you would perceive as someone who's heroic but also someone who's humanly flawed. He is for justice and for lawfulness, yes, but his Dent is also brash and subtly arrogant. Maybe what makes his character's sad transformation from being a clean-cut DA to a monstrous incarnation of confused duality even more gripping is how Dent was portrayed as an ordinarily mild-mannered man who just happens to have a healthy dose of human decency. 

Unlike Batman, he is a man driven towards the path of heroism and justice not because of some tragic undercurrents but because he is born and raised to be one. And what makes his metamorphosis even more tragic is the fact that it could and should have been prevented and also because he was never destined to be the very thing he swore to fight against. 

Destiny, duality and identity; these are the themes that Nolan's "Batman Begins" has focused on but were also re-used here in "The Dark Knight". But this time, its collective emotional effect is heightened even more that "The Dark Knight" came out not just a superhero film or merely as your typical 'Batman' film but as a massive drama about the clashing beliefs and ideological extremes that form Gotham's crumbling soul. And in the middle of it all are some spectacular action sequences that are quite reminiscent of Michael Mann's "Heat". 

In truth, "The Dark Knight" is so emotionally rich that the action seems secondary. Before Nolan, "Batman" films have always been on a crossroad of whether or not to prefer camp over seriousness and vice-versa. "Batman Begins" came and surprised us with its depth; now, "The Dark Knight" enters forth and blows us away with its emotional magnitude. From this point on, I believe that the cinematic "Batman" has already chosen a path: a path that was not chosen and never was an option before by either Tim Burton and Joel Schumacher. This is the film that the caped crusader is unconsciously asking for, and for that, he got what he wishes for, and so do we.

FINAL RATING

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (David Fincher)

Mikael and Lisbeth.

To be honest, my first reaction when I first heard about this Hollywood adaptation of the Stieg Larsson novel was that of utter irritation. Although I haven't read the novels, I just believe at the time that there's no absolute necessity in making a western adaptation of a book that has already been masterfully made 3 years ago by a Swedish production. 

I remember that I even shook my head when I saw both the first pictures of Rooney Mara as Lisbeth Salander and the very run-of-the-mill (by thriller film standards) trailer itself. Though I more than agree about the casting of Daniel Craig as Mikael Blomkvist, all in all, I just don't really care that much about this project from its pre-production stage up to the initial releases of promotional materials. 

"The Swedish film is enough for me, let them have this Americanized Dragon Tattoo." This has been my subliminal mantra before the film's very release. Now reminiscing my ridiculous demeanor towards this Hollywood adaptation as I write this review, fresh from watching the very film of which I have been quite disdainful of, I can only think of one phrase to sum up this pre-judgmental flaw of mine: "Oh, how wrong I was". 

But with that, I'm not saying that this adaptation, as great a stand-alone film it is, is head over heels better than the 2009 film. For a lack of a better word, both films, as far as overall quality is concerned, are 'stalemate', which applies even to the performances themselves. Although I would say that, with a gun pointed at my head, Noomi Rapace as Lisbeth Salander has the softer spot in my heart, I believe that Rooney Mara is as enigmatic in her interpretation, if not as charismatic. 

Daniel Craig, on the other hand, offers a more athletic-looking Mikael Blomkvist and is very into his character that his body language in the film is very effortless in scenes of unbearable suspense and surprising tenderness. Despite of his affiliation in that little movie franchise about an indestructible and highly sexual spy agent we call James Bond, Craig has been very, very believable in this film as a vulnerably mild-mannered journalist torn between the sheer passion of his investigative work and the preservation of his pristine name as a well-known one.

Stellan Skarsgard and Christopher Plummer, on the other hand, offer great presences in vital roles, while Robin Wright makes up for her limited screen time as Blomkvist's editor and lover quite well.

Though I must say that Michael Nyqvist (the Swedish Mikael Blomkvist) possesses the more world-weary physical demeanor that suits the character better, Daniel Craig is the more intense one compared to the former, which makes him more capable in shouldering the heavier scenes as the peril of the story piles up. 

Just like what I've mentioned in my review of the earlier Swedish adaptation, "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo", as intriguing as its little whodunit murder mystery is, is a thriller of characters, not of plot. David Fincher, the perfect man in Hollywood to handle this film (and the whole "Millennium" Trilogy) with great composure, balance and proper genre experience, did just what the expectations call for him to do. 

A man that I can rightfully regard as one of the contemporary greats of the thriller/suspense genre, with works like "Se7en", "Zodiac" and even "Fight Club", Fincher is a humane handler of characters even within the most unbearably disturbing (e.g. Cops tracking down gruesome killers, a founder of a gazillion dollars worth of social networking empire (just kidding)), or the most unusual (e.g. a man physically growing old backwards, an insomniac with a split personality), of situations. And in "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo", it really shows. 

In a worst case scenario, both Lisbeth Salander and Mikael Bomkvist can be turned into characters that may closely mirror members of Scooby-Doo's mystery machine, with the Vanger murder mystery serving as the shadowy plot to unmask and the 'it's him all along' twist serving as its burdening cliche. 

David Fincher, armed with a strong source material and a screenplay of considerable strength by Steven Zaillian, was able to give great priority to the characters without sacrificing any chances of turning the very story into a muddled maze merely solved by taking the wrong path just so a sort of closure, however half-baked, can be attained. 

Our protagonists, aside from being a two-team investigative force, are also two people wrapped in romantic ambiguity. Tackled by the Swedish adaptation with recurring hints of mutual affection, this film has even rendered their relationship close to perfection. It's not much their sexual scenes that have enforced this idea but the subtlest of moments. 

One poignant scene near the end of the film is when Blomkvist and Salander are lying considerably apart in bed as if two reflective lovers. In the scene, there has been no direct gestures of affection directed to each other save for Lisbeth's retelling of her scarred past and their lingering eye contact. 

The camera position perfect, that little space in the middle a spot-on balance-giver to the whole moment and the lighting totally exact. As they lie there subliminally contemplating what their relationship really means and as we absorb this key scene, the more that we already know what the answer is. And surely so that in another scene, as a sales clerk asks Lisbeth to whom will she give the jacket she had just bought, a gift obviously intended for Mikael, she answered that it's only for a 'friend'. 

Well, after all that she has gone through in the film, that which involves digging up absolute truths hidden layers deep within the snow-covered wilderness of the fictional town of Hedestad, we're quite aware that what she said to the sales clerk was a lie.

"What is hidden in snow, comes forth in the thaw" is the film's tagline that's also a Swedish proverb. It was indeed a half-century old tale of hate, murder, and misogyny that was unearthed, but so are shades of something that resembles love. One of the absolute sleeper hits of 2011.

FINAL RATING

Jackie Brown (Quentin Tarantino)

Across 110th street.

Known for his brash and trashy, but ultimately brilliant, cinematic sensibilities, "Jackie Brown" may unusually be Quentin Tarantino's subtlest film to date. With its characters more focused on committing actions based on the narrative's impulses rather than on raw characterization, Quentin Tarantino, a filmmaker who would rather dwell on what his characters are thinking than what the story dictates upon them to do, may very well be out of his groove in this film. 

An adaptation of Elmore Leonard's double-cross novel, "Rum Punch", a book that is highly enjoyable and bursts of great literary energy, "Jackie Brown" is a plot-based screen adaptation that does not expose its characters through the trivialities of a hustle and bustle life that made Tarantino a cinematic household name but merely through the very strict context of the film's central conflict. 

Immediately greeting us with the image of Ordell Robbie (Samuel L. Jackson) and Louis Gara (Robert De Niro) slouched on a sofa watching the former's self-produced 'gun' movies, an image that has been the very representative of "Jackie Brown" in much the same way that Uma Thurman in a "Game of Death" motorcycle suit is to "Kill Bill", the film begins without that initially puzzling opening chapter in the novel which dwelled on a Neo-Nazi parade and instead started headstrong to tell, through a seminal image and the dialogue, who these two main characters are and what they do: Ordell, a street smart gun dealer, and Louis, a fresh from prison low life who's taken in by the former, his old pal, for a job. 

Unlike Tarantino's "Reservoir Dogs" and "Pulp Fiction", both of which begun with not so relevant opening conversations, "Jackie Brown", proving Tarantino's intent to direct against his staple style, is evidently tight in its storytelling that it dared not to let its characters fall that much on some small, unrelated talks just for the mere sake of it. 

One of the great aspects of the film, aside from Tarantino's rapid dialogue, is the casting itself. Elmore Leonard, a novelist more concerned with how his sleazy story would play out more than his character's back stories, still has properly conveyed in "Rum Punch" how his characters would look and act like. Except for the obvious main character change from a middle-aged white woman named Jackie Burke in the novel to a smoky, middle-aged African-American woman named Jackie Brown here and the complete overhaul of Bridget Fonda's Melanie character, the film is particularly spot-on with the characters, their demeanors, and how their literary interactions would translate into film. 

The story, in simple terms, is about the eponymous character's thrilling attempt to play the cops and Ordell with each other so that she can be able to escape with the latter's half a million dollar payoff, with a bail bondsman named Max Cherry (Robert Forster) assisting her in the process. But with Tarantino exercising his usual dry wit, the 'thrilling' part has been, in a way, transformed into an edgier brand of dark humor which has been one of the reasons for Tarantino's directorial successes.

As much as possible depriving the more tense sequences of generic musical scores, these particular moments, instead, have been perfectly peppered not with musical accompaniments but with an underlying humor that has been greatly established in the film's earlier scenes that it's like you're part of Jackie Brown's intent to scam everybody but is secretly smirking, with sweating forehead and all, while you're doing it. 

But then there's also the film's problem, which is the utter devaluation of Max Cherry's emotional connection to her estranged wife; an aspect of the story that has been finely tackled in the novel but is entirely absent in this film. Because of this, Max Cherry has been rendered as Jackie's stiff, lovelorn accessory and nothing more. It's a shame because, as far as characterizations are concerned, I think Max Cherry is the most fleshed-out of all the characters in the novel, which serves as an antidote for "Rum Punch's" half-serious and caricature-like portrayal of the criminal underworld.

As for the performances, there's nothing much that can be said about it because both Sam Jackson and Robert De Niro have, time and time again, proved that they are the staple greats of this industry, especially in portraying hard-edged criminal roles. Even Bridget Fonda is great as Melanie. But I, for the life of me, can't fathom how such a beautiful junkie like her can get into any man's nerve THAT easily (you'll see why). Oh, well, maybe the word 'junkie' does. While Pam Grier, one of the most resonant faces of the '70s blaxploitation scene, made the Jackie Brown character her very own that it's just difficult to read "Rum Punch", with a prior idea of who plays who here in "Jackie Brown", without imagining Jackie Burke as Pam Grier no matter the descriptions.

By Tarantino's standards, "Jackie Brown" may very well be the least violent of his films but is also the least natural one. It's quite obvious that this film has made Quentin exert the additional effort to pull it all off in the name of giving the source novel some screen justice. There's also this sense of inhibition in "Jackie Brown" that suggests the idea that QT has been utterly reserved all along and is quite cautious to pull out all of the tricks in his sleeves for this one. Maybe it's really just better for Quentin Tarantino to make films based on self-indulgent inspirations, not pure adaptations. 

But to end on a positive note, who would have thought that this is a 2 and a half hour film? Some may point out that the running time made the film a bit sluggish as it goes, but I never felt it. In some ways, I may have even preferred it more if "Jackie Brown" runs for 3 solid hours so that it can properly cover Max Cherry's emotional conflict regarding his divorce plans for his wife and may even leave enough time for that little Neo-Nazi mission spearheaded by Ordell Robbie himself. And the ending, well, it couldn't have been handled better.

FINAL RATING

Fargo (Joel and Ethan Coen)

A cold-blooded murder.

"This is a true story".

That is the opening statement here in "Fargo" which, more or less, automatically connotes the utter seriousness of the film's noir-like predicament. With seedy criminals like Steve Buscemi's funny-looking Carl Showalter and Peter Stormare's psychotic Gaear Grimsrud initially populating the screen with their presence, and with William H. Macy's Oscar-worthy performance as the awkward car dealer/equally awkward kidnap mastermind Jerry Lundegaard making the film more fascinating to watch, it's easy to foresee the unfathomable consequences that their weird chemistry and premeditated kidnap scheme would bring about.

And with that penetrating, albeit untrue claim, it is but common for the film to depict a criminal situation with diabolic relentlessness. But Joel and Ethan Coen, even though how limiting the film's genre and premise may be, are just too darn versatile, brilliantly sardonic and oddly comic to be hindered by limitations.

As a result, not only did we get a well-executed, wildly comic crime film, but, more significantly, also an unstoppable cinematic tour-de-force that wallows in cinematic perfection, be it in terms of characterization, the desperate plot or the finely photographed (by Roger Deakins) titular setting itself.

But if there's one reason that separates "Fargo" from other films, it surely is its peculiarly rhythmic dialogue. Delivered in all its integrity by the cast, especially by Frances McDormand as the pregnant police chief Marge Gunderson in what may be the most wisely chosen of all Oscar Best Actress winners, "Fargo's" tongue-in-cheek screenplay gives it an otherworldly comic feel with an originality that makes its own stand even when compared to Tarantino's uniquely trivial dialogues that has been an alternative staple for the crime genre ever since "Pulp Fiction" altered the stream of popular cinematic culture.

The film's story, told in a narrative that mixes violence, laughs and pity, involves Jerry Lundegaard, a car dealer that is waist-deep into money-related problems, and his plan to kidnap his own wife (by hiring the aforementioned criminal duo above) so he can 'monkey business' his way into collecting a million dollar ransom, which his filthy rich father-in-law (played by Harve Presnell) would pay.

But then the Coens couldn't just allow themselves to give us a smarter, calmer and cooler Jerry or a more organized and systematic Carl Showalter and Gaear Grimsrud either because if that's the case, as common sense would always say, there won't be enough grounds for a film. Instead, they gave us a Jerry in the form of the great William H. Macy that is superficially smart, ostensibly calm and just a tad bit cooler than a panicky little rat who's merely dragging his own hide out of an unexpectedly nightmarish situation that he himself has created.

Shrouded in criminality and founded in frustration, "Fargo" is a double-sided film much like the Coens' later adaptation of Cormac McCarthy's "No Country for Old Men". On one side, "Fargo" is an individualistic tale of a cornered man nearing himself into financial crumble and unnoticeable isolation who just happened to have formulated a perverse idea as his last resort. On the other, it's your common police procedural with a not so common police chief on the bloody trails of Showalter and Grimsrud, both of which are not really the smoothest of low-lives

If Tommy Lee Jones' Ed Tom Bell in the Coens' later "No Country for Old Men" displays the elegiac sentiments of a geriatric policeman who witnesses the Texan landscapes' criminal evolution with melancholic eyes, Marge Gunderson is a fast-thinking, no non-sense woman that is wholly focused on her work that, despite of the icy entirety of Fargo, always see every day as a beautiful one.

Naturally appealing and sometimes even condescendingly-toned, Frances McDormand proved in this film that she is one of the most agile actresses out there while at the same time effortlessly integrating her portrayal of Marge Gunderson into the pantheon of great film heroines. Marge may not be the most immediately memorable but she definitely is the most unique.

As time passes by, as I repeatedly watch "Fargo", my main reason for revisiting the film is becoming less and less about the plot itself but more and more about the characters and the wonderful dialogue.

When their masterful rookie effort "Blood Simple" was released in 1984, Joel and Ethan Coen were hailed as 'fresh' talents representative of the neo-noir world. After "Fargo", it was never the same for them, and they haven't stopped since then. But out of their wonderful body of work, "Fargo", after all of these years, still stands tall as their towering masterwork.

FINAL RATING

Primal Fear (Gregory Hoblit)

The altar boy.

As much as it is a powerfully fearless courtroom drama, "Primal Fear" is a film better remembered as the shockingly brilliant cinematic debut of Edward Norton. But to limit this film solely for that fact does not do "Primal Fear" justice. True, it was Edward Norton, with his performance that I wouldn't bother to call as one of the great ones in recent memory, who has carried the film from its brutal opening scenes up to the shocking conclusion, but let's not count out Richard Gere. I have to admit that I have not watched a full Richard Gere film prior to "Primal Fear", as I've thought that, based on some snippets that I've seen from some of his works, he's merely playing himself on all of which I've partly seen. And with 'all', I mean two or three films, so they're not much for me to judge.

Nonetheless, Richard Gere is seemingly at his comfort zone playing an arrogant, cocky, scene-stealing hotshot lawyer named Martin Vail that ostensibly takes cases because he just likes the money and the attention. But with the film judging him worthy to be its hero, Gere convincingly transformed from such a charismatic prick into a silently desperate anti-hero that may or may not care for his client's fate, an altar boy named Aaron Stampler (masterfully played by Edward Norton) who 'allegedly' murdered a prominent Catholic Bishop, but still proceeded to defend him because his instinctive hunch tells him that the boy is innocent.

Meanwhile, on the side of the prosecution, there's Janet Venable, played by Laura Linney with reckless fervor and dry wit, a lawyer who takes on the role of prosecutor in the case more because she wants to keep her job (she's continually being pressured by her boss, John Shaughnessy, portrayed by John Mahoney) and less about unraveling skeletons better locked tight inside a closet. Surprisingly, both Gere and Linney had wonderful chemistry together, as their slightly humorous vibe makes the off-courtroom scenes seem to take on a bit of a comic tone, which personally makes those said scenes easier to watch even with all those barrister jargon being spontaneously thrown in the air.

"Primal Fear", with its initial narrative spark that fully promises a tangled murder story, may be much more deceptive than how you may initially think it would be. With a story (thanks to the source novel by William Diehl) that involves the Catholic Church and some muckraked revelations here and there, the film, with us viewers not knowing what we're really in for, is founded upon an evolving and sharp-edged murder case that may look isolated yet can really be something much more, but then again, can just be the other way around.

With this simple a cyclic narrative flow, "Primal Fear" has been way more effective in conveying complexity through its roundabout revelations and logical beatings around the bush to achieve a certain coherence to support a conclusion that may otherwise be deemed too simple, but one that will ironically make you ponder for hours on end even by the time the credits finally run out and all else are black.

Director Gregory Hoblit, a man whose career surprisingly never took off after this very impressive film, has painted a cinematic Chicago that's like a Gotham City that never was. Modernistic in its immediate towers and skyscrapers, depreciated in its mid-dwelling apartments and almost dystopian in its underbelly, cinematographer Michael Chapman has given Chicago a proper look to accompany the film's tone and also to disassociate and contrast the murdered bishop's posh house with those of the less unfortunate ones.

Whenever one hears the term 'courtroom drama', it's easy to expect some larger-than-life speeches given by the main characters, be it the lawyers themselves or the haplessly accused ones. We've seen Paul Muni's numbing speech in "The Life of Emile Zola", we've witnessed Gregory Peck's "In the name of God, do your duty" monologue as Atticus Finch in "To Kill a Mockingbird", and we've breathlessly beheld the lingual battle between Tom Cruise and Jack Nicholson in "A Few Good Men".

"Primal Fear's" courtroom scenes, on the other hand, never had any big-time dialogue exchanges or killer monologues. Instead, facts are treated as facts, while short-handed evidence and wrong choices of words equate frustration and seem like nothing more. The film, after all, is truly more focused on what it has to unravel than what it has to say.

To succeed on film at a young age, there are mainly two extremes: it's either you're really, really good at what you do or you just had the looks (sometimes it's even a case of nepotism). Norton, with his brilliant acting chops, stumbled and stuttered his way into cinematic prominence. He surely has taken the hard way. Indeed the path of a true actor.

FINAL RATING

Manila Kingpin: The Asiong Salonga Story

Asiong in action.

This might as well be the first time that I'm reviewing a film without a director. Of course it was, during production, helmed by veteran film director Tikoy Aguiluz, whose film "Segurista" I truly admire. But because of some post-production politics and creative clashes between him and the producers, Aguiluz's name, by his own request, was removed from the posters and the film itself, leaving screenwriters Roy Iglesias and Rey Ventura as the only people left at the top of the creative hierarchy.

"Manila Kingpin: The Asiong Salonga Story" was, above all, branded as a resurrection of sorts for the very dead action genre of the local film scene: an alternative cinematic reality reigned over by the likes of Lito Lapid, Rudy Fernandez, FPJ, and lots and lots of blazing machismo. It was truly a haven of myth-making capable of solidifying silver screen stars such as Ramon Revilla Sr. as an amulet-empowered 'crime does not pay' icon and Paquito Diaz as villainy and ruthlessness personified. This is the powerful formula only action movies have the strength and endurance to carry on for more than 40 years or so without looking, even at the slightest bit, exhausted. And in this film's case, it was that same, enduring formula that was utilized by George Estregan Jr. (or E.R. Ejercito) and company to serve us thirsty fans a tribute to the genre's lore and also a blood-drenched gangster tale that we can call our own.

Namely, some of the film's strengths are its exquisite cinematography and set design, which have genuinely evoked the 50's period with its nostalgic, often times claustrophobic and grayish visual treatment. Take note, 'evoked', not 'replicated'. If replication is the film's real intent, then they should have gone braver and filmed it in full color. But with its purpose being to merely create a distinct visual 'feel' completely free to express its own artistic liberties rather than to completely emulate a bygone era to the teeth, "Manila Kingpin: The Asiong Salonga Story" succeeded.

But although the film has meritoriously upheld its own visually, it has fallen short substantially. The film suffered in severe one-dimensionality in terms of characterization, with George Estregan Jr., most known for merely playing loud-mouthed, smoker-voiced supervillains such as Dr. Zyke in "Batang Z" and Ivan in Andrew E.'s "Extranghero", although showing relative depth and previously unseen dramatic intensity in his performance as the savage but gold-hearted titular crime boss, obviously looked awkward at times as he makes most out of the stereotypically-written lead role. While character actors like the ever so psychotic John Regala and the subtle Ronnie Lazaro seem to enjoy in their respective characters' caricature-like brutality, the always reliable Phillip Salvador suffered in his role's tiring and predictable 'although my brother's a hardened criminal I still love him' mentality as Asiong's older cop sibling.

Ping Medina, one of the best young actors working today, was underused in an underdeveloped character, and so were Yul Servo and Ketchup Eusebio. Though I can't say the same for Baron Geisler's, which fueled and enforced the film's theme of betrayal and split loyalty with his dimensioned, though predictable Judas-like character to Estregan's Jesus Christ. With Geisler and his mocking smiles and stares like that of a manipulative schemer, you can clearly read within his character that it's just a matter of time before he goes all Robert Ford to Asiong's Jesse James behind.

True, "Manila Kingpin: The Asiong Salonga Story" may have, in certain ways, hopefully reverberated the action genre with the urgency of its ambition, thanks to George Estregan Jr. and all the people involved. But I think that in time, this film will and should be more remembered as a pioneering crime film that just happened to have one action scene and two or three kissing scenes (!) more than the usual. And just when I'm merely recovering from a "Mad World" LSS hangover, here comes this film complete with its own instrumental rendition of the said song which puts a preachy, 'this is what you should feel' vibe to an otherwise well-executed, "City of God"-esque bullet ballet of a climax.

Now, despite of my scrutiny of the film no one really asked for, I truly enjoyed watching the film for what it is: A textbook action/crime opera. And as the film's credits roll and as the lights in the theater were switched back on, I can see the geriatric majority of the audience; a bittersweet sight that made me think of one thing: "These are the fans that you've left behind, action genre!" Fans that, for so many years, have settled for those pixelated 16 in 1 Robin Padilla DVDs and Cinema One reruns to compensate for the lack, or even the complete absence, of new, locally-produced action pictures.

Now, with not much left to say, I have appreciated this version more than I thought I would, but I'm still particular of the fact that in the long run and in the overall definition of what cinema is all about, the director's vision matters more than all the commercial-minded producers' combined. Now, can we have the Tikoy Aguiluz cut, please?

FINAL RATING

In Bruges (Martin Mcdonagh)

Ken and Ray, in f***in' Bruges.

A second viewing.

Oh, the beauty of style and substance. Stripping down the very essence of filmmaking and wherever which way you try to go around its principles, it will just bring you back to these simple words. "In Bruges", a slick crime comedy, a most surprisingly solid morality play and a meditative travelogue that explores the historical and religious significance of the much-preserved medieval sights of Belgium's Bruges, is an exemplary flag-carrier of the two nouns. It's like a film that could have been directed by Guy Ritchie but with an added strength by way of its thematic depth.

If the aforementioned British director, whose films I particularly admire but have never completely drooled and obsessed over, puts contemporary gangsterism into certain feats of absurdist twists of fates and distortion of events, "In Bruges'" director Martin Mcdonagh had, in some ways, also incorporated such playfully omniscient style into his characters but only as a superficially conscious device. Mcdonagh has put his two protagonists, Ken (the great Brendan Gleeson) and Ray (a revelatory performance by Colin Farrell which won him a Golden Globe) into the 'fairy tale-like' corners of Bruges because of a botched hit, which claimed the life of a child, but dared not to laugh at their predicament.

Sure, it's easy for the film to elicit sardonic smiles and chuckles from its audience judging from the scenario alone, which centers on the idea of two seemingly hardened criminals entrapped in an ennui-inspiring place, especially for people like them which the film has assumed to despise culture and history (such is not the case for Ken, it is for Ray). But unlike Ritchie's half-serious gangster films, "In Bruges" looks humorous only in its very surface. It is very distinct on the way it has conveyed the ever-recurring and ever-haunting notions of guilt and redemption without looking forced at the slightest bit. Maybe it's Brendan Gleeson and Colin Farrell's performances, maybe it is the freshness of the material itself, or maybe it is the brilliant cinematography, by Eigil Bryld, and musical score, by Carter Burwell. But to argue for each side would be very futile. Maybe, they just all work together perfectly.

And then there's Ralph Fiennes, whose portrayal of the rabid but highly principled gangster Harry Waters, the man who has sent Ken and Ray into the dreamy, cobble stone-laden streets of Bruges because of the latter's careless mistake, has caused many viewers to compare or even consider his performance as something of a homage to Ben Kingsley's unexpected turn as the unpredictable crime boss Don Logan in "Sexy Beast".

With the help of the film's great screenplay filled with trivial cues and modern conversationalist tones, which we just can't deny to have been influenced one way or another by "Pulp Fiction", Fiennes' character, which has the negative potential to be very caricature-like, passed off as somewhat believable and genuinely menacing in his distinct way.

We know of his principles, we know that he does not stand for killing innocent people, especially children, and we know that if some unexpected shit hits the fan, he won't think twice to fix everything himself and lull breakers of his code into an eternal sleep. His beliefs are forged of extremism, his methods violent but strangely understandable, his paradoxical impulse to kill someone who wrongly killed somebody is harshly immediate but completely undeniable.

Looking at the parallels of the film's themes with biblical concepts of hell, purgatory and the penance for sins, 'Bruges' might as well be both the purgatory and hell, and the penance for sins may be the film's depiction of the psychological manifestation of guilt, or may also be Harry himself, who just arrived, armed with a handgun and some 'dumdums', to collect.

"In Bruges" surely has been nothing but a sleeper hit more than 3 years ago, with the likes of "Slumdog Millionaire" and "The Dark Knight" taking over and dominating 2008's cinematic scene. Sure, that's also how I perceived this film at the time: A fascinatingly humorous, uniquely made crime film and nothing more (although I saw my 2008's top 10 movie lists on my old blog and saw it ranked at no. 3. I may just need to move it up a bit higher). But after rewatching it to once again witness its richly layered take regarding the context of existential woes, personal demons and bitter regret unfold in a beautiful ballet of humor and violence, it is, I can personally say, one of the greatest postmodern crime films in existence and simply put one of the decade's best films.

FINAL RATING

Drive (Nicolas Winding Refn)

The driver with no name.

Humanity and brutality. Director Nicolas Winding Refn, who deservedly won the Best Director Prize at the 2011 Cannes Film Festival, has beautifully tackled both in a stark existential light, that which echoes the likes of "Taxi Driver", and ultimately weighed both in a blurring contrast which highlights the compromises of poor choices. "Drive", with its violent nature and perverse tone, could have easily been a disposable Grindhouse-like feature. Its exaggerated depiction of nerve-wracking gore, an aspect that is a most common reason for audience polarization, complements the whole film but still suggests a heightened feel of sensationalism for the sake of shock.

Yes, these violent scenes are truly unnerving, but looking at the main character, a skilled driver who works in the movies and also for night heists, played with great control but also with unflinching rage by Ryan Gosling, his mysterious transformation from a passive loner to an involved, blood-drenched avenger is the one that's much more disturbing. Forget the violence first, it is this protagonist's motives and questionable decisions that is the film's center. With him lacking enough character background, it makes his actions all the more intriguing, but his surprising notion towards love and connection without much words to back it up, on the other hand, makes him all the more affecting.

Director Nicolas Winding Refn and screenwriter Hossein Amini (basing his screenplay on the novel of the same name by James Sallis), exposes two primal human impulses, to kill and to love, and brilliantly incorporated it into the film's stylized, almost poetic take on noir. What resulted is a perfect amalgamation of both substance and form, with a fair amount of adrenaline rush to sweeten it all up.

In its very immediate surface that echoes some action film formulas, It is expected for "Drive" to contain one-dimensional characters, particularly the villains, played by Albert Brooks and Ron Perlman. But these displays of intended shallowness is overwhelmed by the film's pitch-perfect rendition of tender love. Ryan Gosling and Carey Mulligan sure has never worked before. Ryan Gosling sure is already initiated with love stories. But Carey Mulligan has been memorable via her turn as a naive young woman in "An Education", so jumping from innocence to maturity, performance-wise, is really quite challenging on her part.

It's almost a thing of miracle, but their chemistry here in "Drive" flowed smoothly despite of some initial constraints. Carey Mulligan, although very young, has portrayed Irene, the main reason for the driver's daring decisions, with this sense of desensitization towards life. It's as if she has gone through so much that she simply wants someone to hold. And him, the driver, on the other hand, being lonely and a complete nobody all his life (albeit him being a stunt driver for the movies), only wants someone's life to touch. With the use of great lighting, cinematography and music (with the elevator scene being the best example), "Drive" has successfully established these two characters' link with an almost melodious feel but also is effective in breaking it.

Narrative-wise, the film is tight in its execution, holds on firmly with what it is all about, and never went on for something else. This particular focus for what's immediate rather than to experimentally delve more on something that is marked with pretense only highlights the film's material strength in its consistent ability to tell a story and also to seamlessly state why it has been told in the first place. It roots out, of course, as what I've said earlier, from the characters' flawed choices.

Nicolas Winding Refn has stated that "Drive" is a tribute to surrealistic director Alejandro Jodorowsky, whose cinematic deviance is a thing both of beauty and disgust. That is particularly limiting because "Drive" is, above all, a general tribute to what great, uninhibited filmmaking is all about.

FINAL RATING

Taxi Driver (Martin Scorsese)

The immortal mirror scene.

My film review/analysis of what may be the best film ever made:

With its main target being to portray the extremely acute post-Vietnam War angst and disillusionment, director Martin Scorsese focused his lenses and vision to a lone cab driver cruising through the filthy streets of New York that almost alludes to a contemporary 'hell', and subtly articulates about the ambiguous nature of insanity. And the result is, well, not just his masterpiece, but one of the finest films American cinema has to offer. It stars Robert De Niro in a heavily complex (and one of the screen's greatest) performance as Travis Bickle, exhibiting both his mastery of subtle acting and his ever-escalating intensity.

But his Travis Bickle is never just a character. He is a representation. A social mirror of how depression and loneliness exist in a subjugated psychological fragment of society where existence is just for the sake of it, and the meaning of the word 'interaction' a fading afterthought. There are those who do not want to meet any new people save for some of his/her few acquaintances. There are those who do not know people much but is striving to meet some. And then there is Travis.

One of the film's timeless aspects is its disturbing, angry, but ultimately sad narration by Bickle himself. Here's a man who transforms his solitude into an anger-laden vigilantism against the so-called 'filth' of the streets. Here's a man who has nothing but his own breathing body and his own deteriorating psychological health. But at least, here is a man who stood up. But to look at Travis Bickle as a flawed hero is far from what "Taxi Driver" is all about. To look at him as a man with a goal and and a concrete initiative is far from the film's nightmarish view of what Travis Bickle is and what he's in for.

If we'll go into a direct assumption that him saving a young prostitute is a heroic deed, then why haven't they just made "Taxi Driver" into a dramatically redemptive little action movie? The answer is this: the whole 'saving the prostitute' mission he had is, like his existence, just for the sake of it. Looking at Travis's motivational pattern, all of his actions root out from him being rejected by the beautiful campaign worker Betsy (played by Cybill Shepherd).

With him having nowhere to go from there, he went on for a plan to assassinate presidential candidate Charles Palantine, not just to horribly capture the imagination of countless people regarding the fact of how terribly 'far-out' a man can be to do such a thing (John Hinckley Jr. and Mark David Chapman already captured ours in real life) and also to take hold of Betsy's attention. This is where ambiguity regarding his actions really starts to go haywire.

Some would say that his plan to kill Palantine is a condemning act to blame the said candidate for not being able to clean up the city's filth. But take note of their scene inside Travis' cab earlier in the film. Their conversation, although a bit distant in nature, is an honest exchange between two men craving for change. See how Travis' eyes went from being patronizingly phony into deeply-set ones as he stated how he wants someone to just flush all the city's scum down the toilet.

In all fairness, Travis do want some change, but relating this sentiment with his act to kill Palantine for not being able to do so (to do something with the city, that is) is foolish. Just like a common psychologically disturbed fellow resulting from extreme social isolation, Travis dreams of 'grandeur'. He wants to be 'that' man that has purposely killed the presidential candidate, and the people will remember him for it. The same applies to his final ditch effort to save the young prostitute Iris (Jodie Foster in a performance that earned her an early Oscar nomination) from his manipulative pimp (played by the great Harvey Keitel).

Because he failed in his previous plan, and also maybe because he has thought that killing a high-profile political figure may put him into the psychotic row of the history pages, Travis decided to enter the territories of folk heroism and masqueraded himself as an obscure social crusader, albeit an extreme one. Take note of the film's tagline: "On every street in every city, there's a nobody who dreams of being a somebody." Travis Bickle may have achieved cult status as an ideal cinematic anti-hero, but I view him more as nothing but a confused and heavily disillusioned fellow who wants to prove something within himself and to everyone, even if it takes a casualty or two to do it. But although I do not see him as a hero, I see him as a truly sympathetic figure, and a truly saddening one at that.

Scorsese (along with Paul Schrader's masterful screenplay), with his ethereal but deeply unsettling depiction of 70's New York City, enhanced by Bernard Hermann's misleadingly seductive yet menacing musical score, symbolically pushes Travis Bickle into a lonesome spotlight in the middle of a show, only to subsequently find out that audiences are filing out of the venue even before he had the chance to step into the stage. "Taxi Driver" is the manifestation of how he may have hypothetically felt at that moment, and the result is a film of unequaled greatness. Please do watch this film, and let the brilliance of what 'true' cinema is all about pervade within your soul.

FINAL RATING

Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino)

Vincent, Jules and the divine intervention.

Oh, how "Pulp Fiction" exemplifies the very meaning of the phrase 'it gets better after every viewing'. One can watch this film any way he/she wants to. If you're in a mood for a pretty slick, densely-written comedy of characters and choices, then there's nowhere to look further than this film. If you're in for some pop culture-laden crime film, then "Pulp Fiction" it still is.

Now, if you may initially think that this film is nothing but a shallowly self-indulgent farce that extracts its energy and ideas from worn-out B-movie references and obscure music, then simply look at it through Jules Winnfield's (the immortalized Samuel L. Jackson) desensitized eyes. It will immediately turn into a film of staggering, multi-layered power, and a rough-edged ode towards spiritual redemption and hard-bound honor, which is what the film is really all about, at least in my view.

But do not get me wrong about that 'selective exposure'-type subjective viewing that I have recommended. I mean, it can still be enjoyed in its immediate layer of violence and involving dialogues. But "Pulp Fiction", unlike any other films not just of its kind but of any films in general, gets better every time you dig a little bit deeper. There's little to no doubt why critics have endlessly analyzed the film ranging from its theological relevance to its devilish undercurrents (Did Marsellus Wallace's really sold his soul to the devil?). Many people have since relished all that's been there, surface-wise. Now it's time to further the appreciation.

There have been countless deconstructions, theorizing and analogizing (I'm not even counting how many speculations have been formulated regarding the content of Marsellus Wallace's briefcase) that have occurred and transpired ever since this film claimed one of the uppermost pedestals of postmodern cinema so that it can rightfully stand side-by side with the seminal works of Jean-Luc Godard.

"Pulp Fiction" has also created a colorful, albeit violence-laden, alternate reality where gangsters may kill in cold blood and talk about foot massages and cheeseburgers and rejected TV pilots at the same breath. A parallel but infinitely peculiar netherworld where normal-looking fellows can ably run pawn shops the same way they can also be dangerous homosexual perverts.

But the film, a masterful merging of spontaneous articulacy and empirical pop culture knowledge by Quentin Tarantino, Quentin Tarantino (I just have to mention him twice) and Roger Avary (who both deservedly won an Oscar for the film's unique screenplay), ceased to be just a cynical exploration of the wholeness of crime.

For a film that consists of sex, drugs and violence that blur the boundaries that separate it from the thematic commonalities of a typical B-grade fare, Tarantino and Avary infused their subtly hopeful sides into it to provoke, balance, and substantiate the transgressive nature that they have visually depicted all throughout the film. "Pulp Fiction", with its ironic mixture of cruelty and humanity, displays an unorthodox poise that makes it even more special and, to a certain extent, quite illuminating.

There's not much to say regarding its top-notch all-star cast, with Sam Jackson, John Travolta (as Vincent Vega) and Uma Thurman (as Mia Wallace) delivering the highlight performances, and with Bruce Willis as prizefighter Butch Coolidge serving as our rare glimpse of heroism that may either be self-serving, unconditional or both.

But what really served as the film's transition point from darkness to light is Jules' powerful dual delivery of the "Ezekiel 25:17" Bible verse. Notice his initial delivery that seems to be an oratorical expression of superficial, god-like anger. Then compare it to his enlightened utterance of the said verse in the film's final scenes. For people who may say that "Pulp Fiction" is nothing but a pretentious, overwritten mess that has an almost 3-hour running time but does not even have anything concrete to say at all, take a look at the tonal difference between the two line deliveries and how Jules, in the latter enunciation, stresses the line about how he tries real hard to be a shepherd with glittering conviction. It's just stunning.

Sometimes, it's not mainly the narrative that hands out change, but the characters themselves. Consider Winston Wolf's (Harvey Keitel) unforgettable remark: "Just because you are a character doesn't mean that you have character." Fortunately, Jules surely is and certainly has.

FINAL RATING

The Departed (Martin Scorsese)

Sullivan's travails.

Stripped off of all the cinematic gloss and melodrama of "Infernal Affairs", "The Departed" is much more raw and pulsating in its delivery compared to the said Hong Kong original, and also more entertaining in its step-by-step revelation and thrills. Headlined by an all-star cast, particularly by Matt Damon and Leonardo DiCaprio (evidently showing how a Hollywood pretty boy before can convincingly pull off a hardened and at the same time conflicted character) and with the film itself fully enhanced with a much extensively realistic and sometimes spontaneously comic screenplay, it's a Best Picture Oscar well-deserved. And don't get me started about Martin Scorsese's best director win merely being an overdue honor for his legendary film career and not for his individual merit for this film. It sickens me, really.

"The Departed", above all, is the crowning jewel of his post-De Niro 'crime' film resume. Unlike "Infernal Affairs", which presents a deep articulation about choice, identity and destiny, "The Departed" ignored those flowery things and instead replaced them with sharp-edged machismo, rough visual texture and a hint of madness. This time, it's not much about the double lives of two moles pitted against each other and their subtle connection but more of an acute generalization of the violent nature of gangsterism itself.

And Jack Nicholson, as caricature-like as he can be, still displayed a thoroughly commanding and menacing presence as Frank Costello, whose knack for unpredictably pungent humor puts a slight comic antidote to refresh and balance the film's dark tone. An overly serious villain for a gravely-toned film is too much a chore to watch, so having someone like Mr. Nicholson to grace the screen with a conspicuously unique persona is, although I know how violently ragged "The Departed" can often times be, a thing akin to beauty.

But that does not mean that Nicholson owned and breathes fire and life unto the film. Damon and DiCaprio, the dual center of the film, didn't give in to Nicholson's larger-than-life screen occupancy. Matt Damon, with films such as "The Talented Mr. Ripley", "Good Will Hunting" and the more recent "The Informant!" as evidences to his stellar acting range, shows how he can be as increasingly heroic as Jason Bourne but can be equally despicable as a con man, scam artist, a nervous liar or as a man who runs a life of cyclic performance art. His Colin Sullivan, a mole planted by Nicholson's Costello in the police ranks, belongs fully to the last, but is a combination of all that were mentioned. That's how tricky and quite complex Damon's role really was.

Again, unlike "Infernal Affairs", who treated its Sullivan equivalent as a redemptive anti-hero, Scorsese (and screenwriter William Monahan) molded Colin Sullivan from pure lies, self-advantage and pure-bred 'pretty face' villainy and manipulation. Maybe it's just me, but I can't see one likable factor regarding Sullivan, except for the fact that him being constantly pushed around by more righteous bullies like Mark Wahlberg's Staff Sergeant Dignam (who would have thought that he's the same guy who played Dirk Diggler?) and, of course, Leonardo DiCaprio's Billy Costigan is surely a pitiful view. And after seeing the film for about four times, I believe that Damon's character is much harder to pull off than DiCaprio's, although both performed with equal energy and considerable dimension.

Some scenes were taken contextually verbatim from "Infernal Affairs", such as the wrongly-spelled word in the envelope and the pre-climactic final unraveling of the film's integral secret via the scene between Sullivan and Costigan inside the police headquarters. But what takes me in as to why "The Departed" is the better film overall, quality-wise, is the fact that everything seems to belong, and not a single thing felt forced.

Granted, the Hong Kong original is much more exquisite in its moody cinematography and perfect choice of seedy locations, but there's this pure spontaneity encapsulating "The Departed's" wholeness, enabling all its aspects, from its gallery of characters to the endlessly profane sputtering, to attain a specific level of believability.

Martin Scorsese, after creating opuses after opuses in his directorial heydays, seems to have been merely sitting tight and effortless while directing "The Departed". But that does not suggest any negative connotations. 'Sitting tight', meaning that he's been through so much cinematic gems (It's just not easy to choose just one 'best' film from his resume) that directing another masterpiece such as this one is, for him, not even a walk in the park, but like a leisurely sit in some prairie.

"Could you double-check the envelope?" Martin Scorsese uttered while finally taking hold of his first ever Oscar statuette. Don't worry, sir, that may just be a sole award, but with all the films that you've made that have waited and truly deserved that little golden man, the one that you've just received is much denser in its meaning.

And besides, you've transcended the AMPAS a long time ago, and a masterwork such as "The Departed" is just a mere reminder that you certainly still have 'it' and your burning artistry won't go out anytime soon, on this life or the next. It's (the film) also a clear-cut benchmark of how one must do a contemporary gangster neo-noir: with rough intensity, abundance of grit, and a penetrating moral undertone.

FINAL RATING