Godzilla (Gareth Edwards)

Kaiju badassery.

If last year’s “Pacific Rim” has offered more than a passing hint of kaiju nostalgia, then this year’s “Godzilla”, Gareth Evans’ modern and westernized take on the monstrous pop culture icon, gives out more than just a splotch of it. And if Roland Emmerich’s 1998 dud of a remake is more about shitting on the entirety of the monster’s mythology and, as much as possible, distancing itself away from its Japanese origins, this one right here, from the title card itself up to the way the music hits certain notes at key moments, is a faithful tribute through and through, if not a bit imbalanced. It boasts of high-end special effects that even the genre itself is yet to be fortunate enough to be often blessed with, and it can also be just as proud with its impressive cast, led by “Breaking Bad’s” Bryan Cranston and reliable Japanese character actor Ken Watanabe.

Just like the very first “Gojira” film in 1954, the “Godzilla” of today is focused on looking at the larger-than-life entity (literally) with a dominantly human perspective. We see Godzilla clash with his monstrous contemporaries (labeled as MUTOs – Massive Unidentified Terrestrial Organism), but often only through express train windows and TV screens and rarely through the ‘monster mash’ point of view that all of us are quite used to, kaiju film-wise (what with those miniature temples and electric posts); that is, until the super awesome final battle.

The problem, though, as what all the other reviewers have noticed, is that the grounded human characters aren’t all that interesting, to say the least. Sure, there’s the uber-talented Bryan Cranston, who often steals every scene (or even each film, for that matter) he’s in and always makes do with what little screen time he has, but his character is one hour gone too early for him to really set in and complement the kaiju action in the film with his acting power.

Aaron-Taylor Johnson, on the other hand, who has already proven his worth with leading roles such as in the “Kick-Ass” films and even in the John Lennon biopic “Nowhere Boy”, struggles because of generic writing, which hinders his character from really growing into someone whom you can really root for at the height of a monster takeover. I’m not a Roland Emmerich fan or anything, you know, but the German lad seems to always have a knack of letting his characters develop into on-screen people you can actually laugh, cry, and be valiant with, all while some form of natural disaster destroys famous landmarks in the background.

Aside from those mentioned above, I also have a slight issue about the film’s way of explaining certain plot details, with Watanabe, who is obviously not the greatest of English speakers, oddly being given the honor to deliver the film’s exposition-heavy dialogues. Maybe I’m asking too much now, but Cranston should have easily been given that task because, what the hell? That man can have an intense on-screen meltdown and still intelligibly discuss perhaps even the hardest parts of rocket science with great ease.

But with that being said, as a movie fan who’s really bent on having his money’s worth with a film entitled “Godzilla”, I was still more than impressed. I mean, do you really expect this film, which is essentially about an atomic-breathing dinosaur that often fights off monsters of varying sizes, to really go on great lengths to profoundly discourse about the human condition? Go grab a Tarkovsky film or something, you sniveling snob. This is about a prehistoric apex predator which destroys buildings and creatures slightly lower to him on the big-ass kaiju food chain on a whim, and the film never wasted a minute to visually tell us anything but that. Though there are mild attempts to show Godzilla’s connection with the human populace (there was a brief scene where the creature and Aaron Taylor-Johnson’s character shared a brief yet knowing glance), what the film is really recklessly careening into is the climactic kaiju battle that puts those in “Pacific Rim” to utter shame. And just like the moment when Gypsy Danger finally unleashed his retractable sword, “Godzilla” has pumped up my adrenaline level to an unbelievably crazy height, especially when I finally saw bluish hints slowly accumulating along the monster’s spine, which, as we all know, is followed by its atomic belch, err, breath.

If you’re looking for a monster film that fulfills its promises and more, “Godzilla” will never disappoint a living soul, except of course those who still strangely consider Emmerich’s version as some kind of canon and expect Godzilla to once again brainlessly wreak havoc on Manhattan and chase a merry band of survivors led by Ferris Bueller. If for anything else, “Godzilla” successfully shows a new generation of audience what a kaiju film is really all about while also letting us in on a crash course about the titular monster’s unpredictable heroism. Now, let us quietly close our eyes and forever erase from our memories 1998’s “Godzilla”, watch Toho bury the hell out of the weird, iguana-looking abomination from that wretched film in “Godzilla: Final Wars”, then drown it all out with this latest Godzilla’s beautiful growl, which is nothing short of music in the ears.

FINAL RATING

Thor: The Dark World (Alan Taylor)

Thor's once again ready for some arse-smitin'.

Without any reservations or holding anything back, I can confidently say that "Thor: The Dark World" is the best Thor film to date, which really isn't saying much considering that this is only the second one. The film, as expected from Marvel Studios, is ripe with spontaneous humor, effective one-liners, and smirk-inspiring references that you may think that Marvel's head honchos have seen "Man of Steel", looked at each other in utter disbelief specifically during the climax, and contacted, within minutes, some of their friends in the comedy business. Lesson learned: never trust a Marvel trailer, for it will tease you with the prospect of sheer ominousness, but will almost always bring you an all-smiling kind of escapist popcorn stuff. 

Though the film is with a subtitle that seems to suggest a more brooding sense of adventure for the 'Thunder God' himself, "Thor: The Dark World" is a very fun and innocuous 'might and magic' outing that's as relentless in its action as it is in its comedy. Plus, you will know that you're in for a ridiculous type of enjoyment when one of the first things you will see in the first 10 minutes or so of the film is a stark naked Stellan Skarsgard running aimlessly around the Stonehenge while parading his very Swedish behind. 

Also, for the first time, we're given an otherworldly villain that's not really a kin to our long-haired hero. His name's Malekith (Christopher Eccleston), a dark elf who wants to destroy all the realms and revert the entire universe back to its dark state because, like rats, his kind is most comfortable in the dark. Of course, no matter what it takes, this will not be allowed by the future king of Asgard, or by the incumbent Odin (Anthony Hopkins), or even, surprise surprise, by the god of mischief himself: Loki (Tom Hiddleston in a definite scene-stealer). 

For someone who's really not into the whole fantasy and sci-fi stuff, "Thor: The Dark World", in some regards, may come across as something too jargon-y, especially when Natalie Portman's Jane Foster starts to talk about gravitational theories and whatnot. On the other hand, though, coming in as a fantasy fan will surely be a treat all on itself because, compared to the first film, Asgard (plus the other realms) is in fuller view this time around, and we're also finally able to behold its sheer size and very Rivendell-esque aesthetic. 

In addition, the film is also more well-endowed in its action sequences, though I can definitely see the visual dissonance that seems to suppress the film's search for a kind of identity. I see a group of bearded warriors engaging in a very fantastical skirmish and "The Lord of the Rings" is what immediately enters my mind. I see a metal-hulled ship that's being shot at by giant laser guns and "Star Wars" involuntarily pops up in my head. Though it is but given that "Thor", in its own right, already has a fairly established universe in the comic books, I still just can't buy how it was realized on-screen, and it also doesn't quite help that director Alan Taylor is a "Game of Thrones" luminary. 

On a more positive note, though, the film's climactic set piece, which sees Thor and Malekith do battle in a highly spasmodic gravitational condition (in layman's term, they're fighting while being spontaneously teleported from one realm to another), is on par with "Iron Man 3's" firecracker of a payoff. 

Chris Hemsworth, in his third outing as the titular superhero, is more effortless than ever in Thor's otherwise unwieldy boots and heavy garb while holding the even heavier Mjolnir, though him being completely overshadowed by Hiddleston's even more effortless portrayal of the unpredictable Loki just can't simply be avoided. This time around, after being defeated in "The Avengers" by, well, the Avengers, Loki is the obvious victor, performance-wise. 

And the ending? Well, I can't believe what I've just seen, but did Kevin Feige and company just borrow from "G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra's" playbook? It's a great sleight of hand (the ending, that is), sure, but I've seen it before, and sadly in an infinitely lesser film. Does this suggest that Marvel's creatives are finally reeling? In terms of the overall quality of "Thor: The Dark World", it's quite evident that, no, it's not anywhere near that, but the ending sure speaks a lot about the fact that even air-lifting Joss Whedon into the set for emergency rewrites just couldn't save a relatively lousy ending. 

Nonetheless, the film is still good enough for what it is, and has some nice enough surprises and in-jokes up its sleeve to make it adhere more tightly to the ginormous hull of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. And, man, just seeing Heimdall the Gatekeeper (Idris Elba) single-handedly kick some dark elf ass secures "Thor: The Dark World" an automatic spot in my list as one of the more truly enjoyable Marvel movies to date. Again, that's not saying much, but the film sure is staggering in scope, which has pumped me up even more for the astronomical degree of awesome that's in store for us when "The Avengers: Age of Ultron" finally rears its head.

FINAL RATING 

Ted (Seth MacFarlane)

Cuddle the fu**er.

"Ted", with its cute stuffed toy lead, looks just like one of those films that can easily be mistaken as a highly disposable children's movie. After all, the film stars a middle-aged man and a fluffy Teddy bear. On paper, "Ted" seems to have 'family' and 'General Patronage' written all over it. It's a film that kind of looks like a thing that's reason enough for families to celebrate, for a movie date during the weekends will surely be set. But wait, did I forget that Seth MacFarlane is the director? Yes, cue in the obligatory 'vinyl scratch' sound. Damn that "Family Guy" guy.

With an initially misleading opening narration reminiscent of all those Christmas movies, "Ted" opens up telling us about the story of a lonely boy who literally wished upon a star for his teddy bear to come to life and be his best friend forever. For the first 30 minutes, the film is surprisingly wholesome and, I can't believe I'm writing this about a Seth MacFarlane film, innocently magical. From talking snowmen to a kid suddenly inheriting an entire chocolate factory, many magical, film-bound stories have led us to believe that people, especially those with the purest of hearts, can indeed live happily ever after. "Ted", in its essence, is a postmodern reflection on all those children's movies but with all the realistic repercussions intact. What if Charlie Bucket was asked to appear on Larry King live and be forced to explain how his employment of Oompa-Loompas is, by no means, illegal? What if Matilda's parents were suddenly asked to appear on the Jerry Springer show? "Ted", in all its irreverence, tries to explore the notion of whether or not the "...And they lived happily ever after" part in children's stories has a follow-up sentence or two.

Turns out, John's teddy bear became quite a television sensation. Appearing in countless talk shows and whatnot, he gradually became kind of like the post-fame Macaulay Culkin (already a fact) and Justin Bieber (just wait): cocky, pot-headed and hopeless. And now, even John Bennett (Mark Wahlberg), the kind-hearted young boy who just wanted to have a friend, is now also a Ganja-smoking slacker. Talk about 'happily ever after'. 

Ripe with crude humor and littered with jokes that range from the offensively sexual and racial to the downright scatological, "Ted" is surely not the film to bring a conservative girl to on a first date. But on the other hand, it sure is the perfect film to watch baked. But aside from that, coming from a viewer who has seen the film sober and all, "Ted" is, sadly, quite forgettable and, at times, even boring. Though it boasts of competent lead performances by Mark Wahlberg, Mila Kunis and MacFarlane himself (he voiced the titular character), the film quite suffers from its predictable, run-of-the-mill plot and some one-bit gags that seem to have been directly recycled from "Family Guy". Giovanni Ribisi though, on the other hand, was quite gratifying to watch in a very far-out role.

But despite that, the chemistry between the titular CGI bear and Mark Wahlberg is hard to deny. Though Wahlberg, post-"Boogie Nights", is more commonly known as a 'go-to' movie tough guy, he exudes a kind of careless boyishness in this film that complements the film's reckless comedic tone. While Seth MacFarlane, voicing the titular character, is perfect foil to the film's every pseudo-attempt at showing order. In a way, he's like a conflation of a non-murderous version of Chucky and a fuzzier Borat. Yeah, that's basically Ted.

With an abundance of intensely subversive jokes and parodying cameos, "Ted" succeeds as a sort of comedy movie of the week. But aside from that, what with its uninspired plot and repetitive humor, the film lacks that certain punch to propel it to something higher. I've seen funnier fragments of "Family Guy".

FINAL RATING

Beasts of the Southern Wild (Benh Zeitlin)

Hushpuppy.

As far as back as I can remember, there's always that one 'Sundance' film that gets a token Oscar nod for 'Best Picture' every year. But naturally, it usually does not have any chance of winning despite the fact that it is often far superior to half of its competition. For me, that's the Oscars subtly telling the independent film scene that "that's as far as you can go". Such is the case for "Beasts of the Southern Wild", a quasi-fantasy, coming-of-age film that really isn't (based on the stage play "Juicy and Delicious" by Lucy Alibar). 

     

With some sheds of "Pan's Labyrinth" in how it has seamlessly enjoined both fantasy and reality in a single continuum, the film is certainly quite refreshing and original. Being a film that's really quite hard to describe, just imagine this: What if a less cynical Werner Herzog and a less abstract Terrence Malick decide to team up and co-direct a children's film? Can you picture it? It's with a kind of profound narration and transcendental music, right? Yeah, that's pretty much how "Beasts of the Southern Wild" looks and feels like. 

     

For a film whose visuals rely heavily on images of poverty and semi-submerged squalor, "Beasts of the Southern Wilds" surprisingly lacks any embedded social messages. Instead, what the film has done is substitute a potentially pedestrian tackling of poverty with a completely unique exploration of innocence and pride that's finely fitted within an engrossing, quasi-magical atmosphere. 

     

Throughout the film, there's a relatively fascinating establishment of the return of the aurochs, an ancient group of giant wild boars that has lived millions of years ago, presumably for a kind of reckoning. But to first set the record straight, aurochs are actually direct ancestors of the modern cattle and not of wild boars, which is quite puzzling to me as to why the makers of the film did not fully rename the creature instead. But at this point, we do not care anymore because one, the film is utterly justified in this aspect because it is structured within a reality of its own, and two, because the film has a far more important angle to cover, and that is the roller coaster relationship between Hushpuppy (Quvenzhané Wallis) and his hot-headed father Wink (Dwight Henry). 

     

Together, both characters, thanks to Benh Zietlin's involving direction and both actors' heart-aching performances (Dwight Henry should have received an Oscar nod for Best Supporting Actor. Am I asking for too much?), dance in the rhythm of great dramatic chemistry without really trying hard to do so, all while the film's more fantastical nature unravels quite masterfully on the side. But then again, the very same 'fantasy elements' that have been laid down piece by piece with such care is the very same aspect that has quite disappointed me. For a person who has expected an equal distribution of both fantasy and reality, I ended up asking for more from the former. But if you come to think of it, the presence of the aurochs in the film is never intended to be quite literal just like how Aslan in the "Chronicles of Narnia" is. What it actually is, at least in my view, is a mountainously symbolic representation of Hushpuppy's ultimate 'test' before she can actually, as what the plot summary states, 'learn the way of courage and love', and it's quite effective because it gives the film a heightened sense of mythological resonance. 

     

"Beasts of the Southern Wild", an uncommon film of visual and thematic grace, is forged out of a unique cinematic spirit and genuine human warmth. The people of Baththub (that's what the film's water-surrounded town is called), although burdened by their difficult and relatively uncivilized way of life and are constantly being antagonized by welfare workers trying to get them out of there, is certainly a proud lot, and Hushpuppy, a girl that knows and feels more than the average kid, is slowly learning that pride, after all, is not that of a bad thing. While Wink, his father, has learned that crying is not a sign of emasculation but a vital proof of life. Indeed, the characters have learned something throughout the course of the film, and so have I.

FINAL RATING

 

Fanny and Alexander (Ingmar Bergman)

Lost.

Christopher Moore, a contemporary author of fantasy fiction, has once said that "children see magic because they look for it". This, for me, is the foundation and the root of all questions raised in "Fanny and Alexander", a complexly-themed masterpiece that is, sadly, also Ingmar Bergman's very last feature film. In hindsight, it may look as if "Fanny and Alexander" is merely about children's innocence and the power of imagination; two themes that are otherwise quite alien to Bergman himself. But seeing the film unfold in its three glorious hours, "Fanny and Alexander" came out to be so much more than that. In many ways, the film is also a complex extension of Bergman's provocative meditation on the non-intervening nature of God (see "Silence of God" trilogy) and his passive role in human existence. Personally, watching "Fanny and Alexander" is like finally putting the last pieces of a jigsaw puzzle in place. 

     

But Ingmar Bergman, ever the abstract filmmaker, is indeed not the kind that will bail you out with some clear-cut answers. For the record, "Fanny and Alexander" is littered with magic and the supernatural; two aspects of the film that can be taken either as truly literal or completely symbolic. Nonetheless, the film, on surface level a period family drama, wonderfully takes on a new texture and thematic dimension by utilizing some elements that defy physics or explanation. In addition, the film even flirts with the idea that magic may perhaps be the one and only substitute for the complete absence of God; an absurdist approach on Bergman's part but is also very compelling in how it slightly satirizes the extent of our adherence to the unexplainable. 

     

With no real story or narrative, "Fanny and Alexander's" first half is all about the everyday trivialities in the life of the Ekdahls, a well-to-do family of stage actors which, after a relatively happy Christmas eve, was struck by an unexpected tragedy, which suddenly finds Fanny (Pernilla Allwin) and her older brother Alexander (Bertil Guve) emotionally astray and fatherless. 

     

By way of Sven Nykvist's dreamy cinematography which has won him a well-deserved Oscar, the film was able to subtly depict both the difficulty of losing a father in the formative years of one's life and the silently mercurial nature of familial existence at the time (early 20th century Sweden) through its use of empty spaces, distant shots and anguished faces. 

     

After the burial of the titular characters' father, a bishop named Edvard Vergerus (Jan Malmsjö) then enters the scene. Extremely authoritative and ruthless, the bishop is Fanny and Alexander's, both of which were raised in a tender and carefree environment, worst nightmare realized. But just when they thought that things won't get any worse after the death of their father, Fanny and Alexander then find themselves under the wing of the bishop himself, who has decided to marry their newly-widowed mother (Ewa Fröling). 

     

From this point on, after much foreboding early on (with those moving statues and the apparitions of Alexander's father), the film slowly but surely abandons the first half's relatively realistic and lively portrayal of the Ekdahls in favor of a more metaphysical, abstract and gloomy second part. From the approach to the characterizations, it's quite easy to see the definite influence of "Fanny and Alexander" in all those stepmother/stepfather films that it has since predated, specifically Guillermo del Toro's "Pan's Labyrinth", what with its stepfather subplot and whole 'magical realm' aspect. 

     

But then, "Fanny and Alexander" is never a film that can easily be defined by classifications. It is, in fact, a challenge to our own grasp of cinematic reality. If an emotionally-focused drama like "Fanny and Alexander" suddenly goes all supernatural (which it did), what then can be our potential response as viewers? Well, it's much preferred to just keep mum and simply relish it; after all, this may just be magical realism's finest moment in cinema.  

     

But aside from being a stunning amalgamation of both fantasy and reality, "Fanny and Alexander" is also a conscious allegory about the importance of cinema in relation to our lives ("Outside is the big world, and sometimes the little world succeeds in reflecting the big one so that we understand it better") and is also a film that challenges our perception of the unknown, of the things we can't define and of certain life phenomena that we can't explain and articulate about. But more importantly, "Fanny and Alexander" beautifully pushes the limits of cinema unlike anything I've ever seen before.

     

As what the Ekdahls' matriarch (played by Gunn Wållgren) has said at the end of the film, "Everything can happen. Everything is possible and probable. Time and space do not exist. On a flimsy framework of reality, the imagination spins, weaving new patterns." From where I look at it, this is the subtle justification of the film's surprisingly magical nature; a justification that is quite directed to us, the viewers, who are neither children nor naïve and who never expected or anticipated magic but stumbles upon it anyway because of this film. How sad that Ingmar Bergman's great swan song has come too early. But nonetheless, we should still be thankful that a film like "Fanny and Alexander" has come at all. Now I'm more than eager to watch the five-hour version.

FINAL RATING

 

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey (Peter Jackson)

The spirit of adventure.

Watching "The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey", for me, is like being reunited with a good old friend who has since become all rich and famous but still hasn't changed a single thing either with his/her looks or behavior. It is, at least, a very emotional experience for me. For someone who has grown up during the times when "The Lord of the Rings" franchise's popularity is in full phenomenal swing and its influence to its fans reaching Star Trek-like proportions, witnessing a spin-off like "The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey", with pretty much everything that has made the original saga so endearing to almost every single living being fully intact while also maintaining a sense of humility in its story, is truly extraordinary. Let's just say that "The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey" is the best adventure film that I have seen for quite a while since, you've guessed right, "The Fellowship of the Ring". Well, you just can't go wrong with Peter Jackson and a handful of halflings. 

     

Although officially a prequel, "The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey" is, all together, an entirely different cinematic experience in its own right, and that's what's truly admirable about the film. If you'll look at it, it's easy to see how it is more advantageous for the film to relish and indulge on the already established mythology of the three legendary films before it. But instead, it took some nice creative liberties with the overall narrative, characters (except of course for the likes of Gandalf and other character reappearances) and atmosphere, which resulted in an experience that's as familiar as it is fresh.  

     

Aside from that, there's also the evident ambition in the film. Then again, let's not kid ourselves because, hey, the word 'ambition' is always attached to any Middle Earth-related creations. But still, "The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey" is a sure-fire testament of how Peter Jackson, though already 10 years removed from the year the first part of his colossal 'Ring' trilogy was released, is still keen on constantly topping himself, visual-wise at least. With this film, he has thrown everything in, from trolls and dwarves to dragons and griffins (and even some rock giants who have a penchant for some earth-shaking fisticuffs), but the Shire's kitchen sink, and I couldn't be happier. Hell, even the performances were top-notch, especially Ian McKellen as the beloved Gandalf and Martin Freeman as the awkward but courageous Bilbo Baggins. While appearances by Christopher Lee (as Saruman), Hugo Weaving (as Elrond) and Cate Blanchett (as Galadriel) among others, are nice extra treats that make the experience even more fulfilling and, to a certain extent, almost tear-jerking. Oh and there's also that little 'riddle game' scene with that obscure character named Gollum. That, my dear reader, is worth the price of admission alone. 

     

5 years ago, I would have never even imagined that I will be able to witness the mercurial beauty of Middle Earth and the wonders of its adventures on the big screen (fact: I have never seen a single "Lord of the Rings" film on the multiplex). Suddenly, here comes "The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey", a cinematic creation of two of the greatest minds working in the fantasy genre today (Peter Jackson and Guillermo del Toro), with arms wide open and ready to embrace me as if I'm an old friend. Hell, even with just the first notes of that beautiful Shire music, I'm sold. All I need is a pony and some damn 'burglar' contract. "The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey"; I never expected it to be this good and the journey to be this big. Ladies and gentlemen, we're officially in for an epic three-part saga once again.

FINAL RATING

The Fly (David Cronenberg)

Metamorphosis.

Before anything else, even now, I still can't believe that I have bought a copy of "The Fly" from a legitimate store for a whopping 25 pesos (that's around 50 cents in American currency), while countless copies of Asylum-produced films like "Transmorphers" and "The Day the Earth Stopped" (Really, they thought someone would fall for that?) are there in the same store sitting comfortably in their overly expensive asses. Oh wait, a film called "Fargo" also sits in the lonely 25 bucks rack. Damn, really.

Now, moving on, I think it's quite refreshingly sardonic for director David Cronenberg and screenwriter Charles Edward Pogue (who adapted his screenplay from the 1958 original and also from the George Langelaan short story) to use an irrelevant insect to shockingly introduce us to the narrative's true frightening pulse. The film could have also worked on a much lighter level if its anomaly would have rooted out from the simple idea of the teleportation device itself, but the film took this common science fiction nugget into the real extremes, not just for the sake of it, but to offer something more.

Now we see the downside of intellectual grandeur not just by how it portrays the toll it gives to a man who has one mentally and socially (living in isolation, a lousy hair, Einstein references and the like), but also physically. The film of course focused more on the very last. But that focus that may seem, at first glance, too shallow a center point for a film, was emotionally balanced by enough doses of drama and "Frankenstein"-ish goth romance. What differentiates "The Fly" from Mary Shelley's literary classic, though, is how the first specifically merged both the 'fiend' and Victor Frankenstein in one wholeness, in the form of Jeff Goldblum's Seth Brundle character.

How he turned into that ghastly, slimy and monstrous creature, that is where the story's Olympian god-like intervention and alteration of the characters' motives and actions take full command of the film. Like the fly inside the teleporter plot mischief, Seth Brundle's motive as to why he carelessly attempted (and technically succeeded) to teleport himself was for one simple reason. No, not those complex internal conflicts regarding a self-debate of how he can change the world and himself by way of molecularly transporting himself through electricity and wires and stuff, but for the simple fact that he was crazy drunk (with a baboon as sole company) during the time.

Like the Coen brothers that seem to laugh at their protagonist's (especially in their neo-noirs) own misdemeanors and faux pas as they go helplessly and hay-wire insane from one situation to another, Cronenberg brilliantly manifests this unconscious natural albeit peculiar flow of existence that purely enunciates that sometimes, things, particularly the crazy ones, just happen. But from this initial, almost comic-like hammering of nails to seal Brundle's 'unfortunate fate', "The Fly", after being initially founded by an uneasy but evidently passionate romance between scientist Seth and journalist Veronica (played by Geena Davis, who later became more renowned as Thelma in "Thelma and Louise"), is emotionally intensified not mainly by its visual horror but by the sheer idea of love.

Through this way, the film became more or less a much relentless horror. A horror of choice. The film instantly became more concerned not about who kills who or who goes where or who decapitates which body part, but what it really takes to give up something. Would you relish love all the same even when the one you continuously love is a physical manifestation of hate and disgust? "The Fly", surprisingly, answered immediately with a not-so-subtle shotgun blast, then a fade to black. Not seeing what happens next is an extreme rarity among science fiction horrors. Not even the most recent "Splice" denied us a peak of an uncertain epilogue.

This is the thing that will surely be a constant reminder as to why I 'll always place "The Fly" on a separate field of existence, far from other films of its kind. It is this brave adamant stance to refuse us the answer to the question "What happened next?" that took me into "The Fly's" almost hypnotic spell of fright, bodily fluids and mad love.

It is this film's shining ability to just live in the moment, the beginning, middle, end and all, and forget about any prolonged post-carnage drama that convinced me of its audacious greatness. Fast-forwarding through the film in weary anticipation of a surprise post-credits sequence and subsequently finding out that there's none, there's this slight sigh of relief. Post-carnage drama? I believe Veronica's brief but infinitely tragic weeping is enough. I was moved, alright.

FINAL RATING

Zombadings 1: Patayin sa Shokot si Remington (Jade Castro)

Mart Escudero as the cursed Remington.

I have to give props to this film for being able to carry out a fairly original horror-fantasy narrative, and extending a considerably offense-free humor regarding the homosexual sub-culture. But aside from that, I highly commend Mart Escudero for his great performance as the titular character (and also for the film's highly talented cast that are also good sports) that is condemned to undergo a 'fairy' metamorphosis and then to die of 'shokot' (a gay lingo for 'fright', for the uninitiated). Although an indie film (and we all know how some indie films take themselves too seriously), "Zombadings" wallows in its own exuberant B-movie cheesiness, filled with awkward editing, a stupendous murder MacGuffin (the 'gay-dar'), a quiet town (as always), and of course, hordes of cross-dressing zombies. But what makes it different at the very least is the fact that although we have seen endless amounts of comic homosexuality on film, I think this is quite the first time that I've seen a film that have dealt with homosexuals as if they're a generalized, cohesive and interdependent group.

With those mind-numbing 'gay-lingos', is it really their official language that spans borders of place, age and degrees of homosexuality? What if Remington, cursed by Roderick Paulate's character to be gay when he grows up, transformed into a discreet, shy-type one in the sense of how other complex 'bromance' genre films came to portray them? And why are gays in this film so, so sensitive? Is it really possible for a naïve kid's tease of 'bakla, bakla!' to inspire a spirit-summoning wrath? But again, questions like these aren't really particularly relevant let alone valid for this type of movie. Films like this is in a universe of their own; a homage-littered and film-recalling one at that.

As Remington slowly turns into a full-fledged, not so subtle 'bading', I can't help but compare Ogie Diaz's polar opposite transformation into a sultry Via Veloso in "Hiling". The setting of Lucban, Quezon (The great ‘Buddy's’, slightly seen in the plaza scenes) reminds me in some ways of Flavio's Sto. Sepulcro, while the zombies and the campy feel seems like a depleted, musical sequence-less combination of "The Happiness of the Katakuris" and a subliminal manifestation of Dr. Frank-N-Furter.

So, maybe that's what lacks in "Zombadings" that could have really perfected its self-mocking tone: A musical sequence. Granted, there's a colorful dance sequence for Remington (I love how ‘Remington’ sounds like a classically macho rifle yet suggests the contextually otherwise), but this film really begs for a dance ensemble. Like the one in the masterful yet obscure B-movie "Dead & Breakfast", "Zombadings" is the kind of film that is tailor-made for such. If musical sequences served as a deconstructive ingredient for the satiric "Ang Babae sa Septic Tank", a musical scene or two could have really 'constructed' this film's true, green-blooded (staying with the homosexual tone) feel as an 'eklavu'-filled nonsensical ride, and truly proud of it.

"Zombadings" is pure guilty pleasure, and even though it's an indie film (some people think that watching more indie and less mainstream films is a bloody good investment for their intellectual self-image), it is a surprisingly hollow, shallow and an inch-deep offering from our local film industry's alternative realm. But what really caught me off-guard regarding this film is the fact that when it looked like it will be another one of those films where gays are once again reluctantly placed into a comic freak show heap to be randomly stoned with malicious, bordering dehumanizing jokes, it's a revelation that it has portrayed the homosexual community as a productive, hard-working bunch. A breath of fresh air in its ultimate message and, considering that it was advertised as an unrelentingly nauseating take on the concept of flesh-eating zombies and stereotyped image of cross-dressing gays, quite innocuous in its overall execution.

With the mainstream generating endless concepts, be it comedy, drama, romance or combination of all three, to pass as cinematic escapism, this is our indie industry's take on the idea: Not truly unforgettable, not that great, sometimes even fleeting in its own right. But at least, it's head over heels fresher than its comparably big-budgeted half-brothers (or half-'sistahs', perhaps?).

FINAL RATING

Sucker Punch (Zack Snyder)

Our trippy little heroine.

A 2-hour cinematic excuse to showcase what I may call the 'Trinity Complex' (after Carrie Ann Moss' iconic role), which is prevalent among many female characters in so-called cool and kick-ass action films. But sadly, with all its kinetic visual gibberish, "Sucker Punch's" narrative took a hefty lot of beating.

Zack Synder, mostly known as a heavy-handed visual director, indulged too much on surface pageantry and partly forgot about narrative justifications. It also just shows that Mr. Synder really lacks the emotional side to really carry out the film's 'freedom' theme (that reminds me a lot of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" ) that might as well be just as potentially compelling even without any of those phantasmagorical action sequences.

And considering that this is Zack Snyder's first originally-conceptualized live-action project (with his past projects being a remake, a CGI animation and 2 graphic novel adaptations), he should have pushed for a more logically coherent direction in terms of its plot and didn't took the easy way out by means of a CGI action-fest that nonsensically takes place inside the protagonist's mind (played by Emily Browning) while dancing her brains off and supposedly putting those who witness her perform into a temporary trance.

As those scenes went on like those of "Black Swan", dragons, giant armor-clad samurai warriors and robotic henchmen pollute the screen like it's nobody's business and with complete disregard whether it may look horrendously ridiculous or not. Why can't they just film an extremely alluring dance number in plain sight? Why resort to such an intense (though very forgettable) orgy of bullets and explosions when its core tale is pretty strong enough on its own?

Another problem I have with the film is its complete neglect of character development. There's Emily Browning which I think could have pulled off a great performance. Abbie Cornish is truly assertive in her role. Carla Gugino, riding the same 'older than her age' role that she previously portrayed in "Watchmen", is quite good. What lacks is an entire characterization that is essentially needed in such a film of hard-hitting action. Compare it to, say, Tarantino's "Kill Bill", which is also a heavily stylized film. But before it completely went ape-crazy with its gutsy violence and musically-enhanced action set pieces, the chief players were fully fleshed-out first via Tarantino's wondrous writing.

"Sucker Punch's" character-fleshing deficiencies (But I should have known based on the characters' names alone) aren't about the context of 'do we care about the protagonists?' but to the extent of 'do we even bother about them at all?' As our female leads slash, bash and gun-bang (is there such a word?) their way into the film's surprisingly dramatic ending, it should have been one hell of a foxy, hard-hitting ride (and an action vehicle about 'woman empowerment').

But instead, it has embraced its ridiculous self and, armed with the typical musings about existence translated into narrations, Kamikazeed head-first into pretentious oblivion. It's just a shame that its main selling point (the history and fantasy-combining action sequences) also ironically paved way for its cinematic downfall.

If only they have retained the simple gist of the story and completely sacked the idea of a literal psychological warfare and countless cerebral gunfights, "Sucker Punch" could have been more worthy as a celluloid-occupier. Oh, and one more thing (keeping up with the Scott Glenn catchphrase), it's also an obvious letdown of leviathanic proportions, considering that it once boasted of being on par with "Inception".

FINAL RATING

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1 (David Yates)

Harry, Hermione and a Horcrux.

It's easy to say that "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1" pumped you up for the final Potter film. But aside from that plain rave about the film (I honestly think that saying that this merely 'pumped' you up for the next one undermines this film's true worth as a pure film on its own), this one's also a well-conceived exercise in atmosphere building. True to the inevitability of its transition of tone, it's given that "Half-Blood Prince" fully paved way for the immense darkness that has since fully set in into the whole magical saga. But this first-half adaptation film really makes the previous installment seem like an exuberant daisy farm.

With "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1" indulging its key story into such themes as death, emotional degradation and desire, one can easily suffice that this one's a true departure of what the film series used to be. But again, unearthing these dark undertones and integrating them into the mythos of Harry Potter purely enhanced the potential of what the series can really be.

The film opened with a stark dramatic introduction into the emotional and decisive conflict of Potter and his friends, looking at windows and uttering 'Obliviate' spells as they try to meditate on their final adventure where both Hogwarts and the world's fate lie. Through this and a cunning initial action sequence (that has brought magical carnage into the city outskirts), it's easy to see that this film won't be hesitant anymore in its displays of negative emotions and suspenseful chaos.

Then the film suddenly transports its heroes' quest into the Ministry of Magic itself that seems like a fantastical remodeling of the bureaucratic, uber-cyclical world of Terry Gilliam's "Brazil" (with a Graham Chapman look-alike as Ron Weasley's disguise). Two introductory scenes of pure adventures wrapped in dark intents and intrigues. These types of moments, no matter how bordering craziness some scenes may look like, truly conforms with the wondrous tradition of the Potter lore. But hinting at shades of blackness and blue, "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1" is much grittier in its collection of episodic tasks and missions and are ultimately more satisfactory in their respective in-between catches of breath.

But this time, there's no dragon-riding suspense or broomstick-riding, flying keys-fighting excitement just for the sake of it and how the word 'fantasy' relate with the name Harry Potter just like how the term 'adventure' connects with Indiana Jones. This time, there's much more at stake.

Among the other films in the series, this film is the most mature in its exploration of the Potter-Granger-Weasley friendship dynamics and marks David Yates' pure ease and proper form as a "Harry Potter" film director. Its only minor flaw, though, is the eponymous Deathly Hallows' improper narrative positioning within the duration of the film and how it was actually tackled. For 2 and a half hours, the film has gotten itself from the most dangerous of perils and into the most bitter of jealousies yet the very titular 'Deathly Hallows' were only imposed into proper exposition in the last 20 minutes or so of the film. Although the very retelling of the "Canterbury Tales-like" story of the Deathly Hallows legend is thoroughly overdue, it was visually told in a style that has likely to have merged Indonesian 'Wayang Kulit' puppetry with atmospheric CGI animation that bursts of great imagination.

Now, if 'hyped' is the only thing that you've felt after watching "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1", then the film has failed to inculcate its whole power unto you. For me, I'll describe it as a very 'powerful prelude that can wholly stand alone'. But of course, speaking of the anticipation regarding part 2, I was also truly pumped, alright.

FINAL RATING

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (David Yates)

The two with a task.

Now this is what's great when a Potter film is done particularly right. After a slightly weak effort in "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix", director David Yates has replenished this film with a brilliantly balanced mix of teenage love (developing between Potter and friends) and the gritty abundance of dread polluting and tinting the air as the brooding presence of the Dark Lord is getting more and more overwhelming and his powerful than ever arrival a pure inevitability.

For the first time, although it initially looked like "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" will be a conflicted film, tone and theme-wise (whether it will emphasize the romantic subplot more or fully focus on the desperate quest to uncover Voldemort's secrets and exploit a loophole in his self-achieved immortality), it came out as a great combination of both and ended up as a truly ideal film in the franchise that can appeal both to those who seek the obviously inescapable romance between our heroes (mainly the teenage audience) and those who like their Potter film broodingly stirred and menacingly thawed.

Daniel Radcliffe, who I found to be quite stiff in the previous chapter, has qualitatively raised his performance a notch higher and looked more comfortable and eager as the lightning-scarred chosen one. On surface level, his character may look too hard to comprehend. One scene he is as confident as ever, but in the next, he's as insecure as the next nerdy fellow. He may be a reluctant hero, but his Harry Potter role can be viewed, especially in this film, as a representation of the destruction of people's 'not a care in the world but confused as all hell' teenage monotony. A cyclic stage in one's life broken by one's choice to move deeper and deeper into the intricacies of a dangerous, world-threatening affair as part-curiosity and part-bravery.

Maybe 'revenge' is Potter's ultimate goal, but looking at his numerous adventures that seems to beat more around the bush than to progress, I can quietly see that J.K. Rowling attached this 'retribution' scenario (and also the 'chosen one' prophecy) as subtle MacGuffins to subtly move the whole intricate plot line so that her characters' countless adventures can be wholly justified. After all, "Harry Potter" is essentially a children's fantasy book, a genre where bulks of make-believe journeys are nothing but commonplace.

But back into the whole "Half-Blood Prince" situation, it was a beautifully placed (and enhanced by the film's revelations' seamless narrative timing) penultimate complication that creates what seems like momentary displays of adolescent happiness and then juxtaposing these emotional elements with the contrasting difficulties that lies ahead for Dumbledore (a great performance by Michael Gambon) and company like a massive Herculian task. It's a film, although mainly tinted with pale, eviscerated colors, that supports itself with the strength of its solid 'black and white' visual comparisons (scenes of romance and of downfall). And with that alone, I think the film has succeeded to be a very strong installment in the franchise with such a simple cinematic approach in contrast.

Another note-worthy performance is of Jim Broadbent as Horace Slughorn, a very crucial character that is rightfully downplayed by Broadbent with the needed lack of awareness and apathetic ineptitude towards the darkening weather of events. True, "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" might as well be one of the most uneventful films in the franchise in terms of action sequences, but as a Potter film that is finally equipped with the needed bridge across a trodden path into an impending end, this is a film of heart-pounding emotional proportions. Raising wands and trickling tears, this one's one of the best in the series.

FINAL RATING

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (David Yates)

'You-Know-Who'.

It has been quite obvious that the "Harry Potter" film series has gradually became darker and darker the same time when its main stars grew older and taller. This change of thematic tone is given for such a series of far-flung magical mythology because as film viewers, we can't stay with what's merely colorful and limited forever. We can't indulge ourselves with wondrous flying cars and levitating spells for a long time when there's the Dark Lord himself and some Dementors somewhere out there.

So if "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire" clearly is the prelude to the series' descent into narrative darkness and character complexities, "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" is the further sustenance of this said transformation of tone. Throughout the film, we see scenes completely colorized with blue, signaling an impending, higher conflict. While the characters, especially Potter himself (Daniel Radcliffe really reminds me of Keanu Reeves' acting chops in many scenes), who is drawn into a psychological torment/mind games with 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'.

Then ironically, Sirius Black, played by the ever-disturbingly brilliant Gary Oldman, whose roles of marauding villains completely overwhelm his resume, is surprisingly the lighter part of the film as Potter's father figure in the middle of an escalating tension. The previous installment, "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire", is a very action-packed film that was although justified in its action sequences by the mere Triwizard Tournament, translates the best into a good old blockbuster offering.

In contrast, "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" lacks the action set pieces (except the climactic but short-lived Lord Voldemort and Dumbledore duel of contradicting elements) and the overall sense of story-telling vitality save for its slowly relishing and equally unnerving build-up into an ultimate encounter.

Even the bureaucratic theme in the film is little to no significance into the film's general 'awaiting a villain's return' tone except for the fact that this little plot line summarizes the Ministry of Magic's trembling fear for the overpowering Voldemort's revival of powers. Although I have to say that I immensely liked Imelda Staunton's effective performance as the dictatorial, Trunchbull-like Dolores Umbridge.

In the long run, what will generally matter is how the franchise has ended. There are some which have finished with high and flying colors ("The Lord of the Rings" saga and the "Star Wars" sextology), but there were numerous which have ended with bitter-tasting salvos (such as "The Matrix" and Christopher Reeve's "Superman" films). "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" will surely be remembered as that middle 'Potter' film which concluded with a high-powered encounter between two powerfully opposite wizards and an installment in the franchise with lots and lots of blue. Oh, and maybe as that film that contains an 'under a mistletoe' kissing scene for our beloved titular hero.

FINAL RATING

Stardust (Matthew Vaughn)

Tristan and Yvaine.

"My dear, I will give you everything, even the stars, just for the sake of our love". From that romantically far-fetched a line that is oh so abstract a thought and all too hyperbolic a statement begins the startlingly original adventure of "Stardust", a film adaptation of the Neil Gaiman graphic novel of the same name that vibrantly tells of magical realms and transcendent love that may initially look as if we've seen it all before, but with a comedic execution that makes it seem fresher and genuinely a notch more enjoyable than any films of the fantasy genre had ever been.

It's like Tim Burton's fantastically twisted vision merged with bits of Monty Python and some conventional fairy tale staples. As the film starts, with that deep-voiced narration by Ian Mckellen, "Stardust" created a distinct universe of myths and magic with eager flamboyance and familiarity, visually decreasing the sense of otherworldly surprise (that is clearly present in "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe" via the wardrobe and in "Alice in Wonderland" via the rabbit hole) and minimizing the line that separates the human world from those of flying vessels and ambitious witches.

But this time, there's no spells to cast or tornadoes to be felt just to enter the land of whatever, but merely a wall to cross secured by a not so quick-witted a guard. Now there's Stormhold for you.

Matthew Vaughn, who previously directed the great "Layer Cake", captured the essence of the said parallel universe without any foreboding of age-long reign of darkness a la Sauron or suggestions of full-fledged random craziness a la Lewis Carroll. It walks along the fantasy land with Shakesperean opportunism (as to how the film has portrayed the ambition of power by means of the King's (the legendary Peter O'Toole) sons' struggle to possess the ruby that is the affirming object of kingship) and the commonly grim characterization of witches who want nothing but eternal youth and beauty.

They can separately try to get what they want and get done with it, right? Without getting on each others' nerves and may even inhabit two different films to isolate their goals, isn't it? But as it unfolds (effortlessly that is, thanks to Gaiman's source material), their goals manifest in the guise of Yvaine (played by Claire Danes), a fallen star that is as knowledgeable as she is clueless. But wait, there also enters our alliterated hero Tristan Thorn (played by Charlie Cox) who, based on the opening line of this film review, also strives to capture Yvaine and bring her to his true love as a romantic gift. And just like that, "Stardust", with a relentless but wholesome narrative pulse and high doses of magically bizarre slapstick, begins its rat race for a star that, in some ways, resembles that in "Maltese Falcon".

Now, if there's something I'll definitely remember in the whole film, it will be the 'characters' themselves and no, it's not Yvaine and Tristan. Michelle Pfeiffer and Robert De Niro, who gave unforgettably comic, over-the-top performances as Lamia the witch and Captain Shakespeare respectively, provide the sideshows that paint the world of Stormhold with contrastingly two-sided hues of eccentricity. With Claire Danes and Charlie Cox in the lead roles whose star powers and on-screen charisma (but based on what I've seen in the film, there's not much to scrutinize in their performances and formed chemistry) still isn't particularly tested that may also potentially give its studio a clunker of a film, veterans Pfeiffer and De Niro lend their shoulders for a share of the burden and oh what a support it was. "Stardust" just isn't the same without the presence of Pfeiffer's vain witch and De Niro's closeted pirate.

Add up Mark Strong, whose villainous roles in films bring him closer and closer on the verge of type-casting, portrays the sole-surviving prince Septimus (among his seven brothers) with that kind of vilely murderous instinct unforgettably displayed by Macbeth minus the downward spiraling insanity. Yeah, at first, I was quite unimpressed. Another antagonistic one for Mr. Strong, indeed. But all throughout his portrayal of the said character, one can sense his 'tongue-in-cheek' intent.

He bullies, brutalizes and kills anyone on-sight who hinders him in his goal for Yvaine and her ruby necklace. He renders anyone not on his side dead or dying, but he's deadpan in what he does. In this Septimus role, "Stardust" has immensely succeeded with its darkly comic tone. With the film being a fantasy picture, with such heavyweights as the "Harry Potter" and "Lord of the Rings" films serving as the genre's flag carriers, "Stardust" may have used some ideas that can easily be branded as repetitions.

But to what it is particularly disadvantaged, it makes up for its perfect approach for comedy. And to where it may look cliched (specifically in its magical and romantic elements), it makes up for its uniquely conveyed gallery of characters. "Stardust" is a beautiful, sometimes softly tender, sometimes ruggedly fast-paced and grotesquely overwhelming fantasy film that has achieved to leave a mark in such a conceptually-loaded genre.

By observation, after I watch some fantasy movies, there's always this recurring feeling of wonderment and awe mainly because of the visuals and nothing more. But after watching "Stardust", of course there's still the same feeling, but with a delightful smirk traced upon my face.

"My dear, I will give you everything, even the stars, just for the sake of our love". If that rings true to the one who promised the words and a place such as Stormhold a thing of reality, there will surely be a hundredfold of star-chasing adventures here and there. Yeah, right.

FINAL RATING

Antichrist (Lars von Trier)

'He' and a 'Hailstorm'.

"Antichrist" is, beyond Lars von Trier's titular allusion to religion, a harsh, denigrating and sadomasochistic exploration of the psycho-sexual landscape. At certain points, as far as descriptive cliches are concerned, this film is like a combination of Raimi's solitary horror (as displayed in "Evil Dead") and some gutsy bits of de Sade. It's relentless in its graphic nature, uninhibited in its sexuality, yet particularly hopeful in its catharsis.

Lars von Trier, who recently stated that he'll never make another film with a happy ending, convincingly pulled off a satisfying conclusion to such a crazy, debauchery-filled film such as "Antichrist". It's Dante's Inferno all over again, filled with ambiguously disturbing psychological insights that may not translate well into reality (it's a bizarre fantasy, after all), but still a balanced approach to human nature's unpredictability.

The film opened with a slow-motion, black-and-white, 'perfume commercial'-like sequence of 'He' and 'She's' lovemaking. Unbeknown to them, their infant son is already climbing into a table and reaching into a window. The child then accidentally falls into his death. Through this ironic juxtaposition, von Trier has captured it with a sense of hypocritical artistry. As 'He' and 'She' are engaging in a charged, 'not-a-care-in-the-world' intercourse, it was accompanied by a beautiful heavenly music. While on the other hand, 'death' is happening in the other room, with the child symbolically shoving the figures of the three beggars (representing 'grief', 'pain', and 'despair') atop the table down to the floor.

The lack of care was highlighted as the two characters' sexual vigor completely engulfs their care for their child. Is it a pitiful tragedy on their part or not? For 'She', it was unbearable, so the couple went into their cabin in the woods for some reflection and, hopefully, to cleanse off the tragic residues and heal emotional wounds.

With the main 'woods' setting simply labeled as "Eden", and the two characters solely called as 'He' and 'She' (Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg in such unrestricted performances), von Trier is seemingly up to no good. With too many thematic possibilities out there to tread, he chose to mercilessly destroy the idea of the thousand-year parable of "Genesis". But in the film's context, it's not the fruit that has turned the two characters into sinners but the raw fragility of the mind. He (von Trier) snobs the cliches that 'dreams' are the catalysts of psychology and goes straight into abstraction; he blended reality with the subconscious materialization of the psyche, resulting in a bluntly caustic depiction of a gender-dictated netherworld of phobias and fantasies that even went into the extremes of gynocidal fanaticism.

"Antichrist" is not your typical 'horror' film or 'psychological thriller' (IMDb being clever and knowing enough not to label it as 'horror'), it's way more than that. At certain moments, it even tackled the pathetic consequences of misled fatalism. The film is such a thematically layered piece of auteur work that just happens to be masquerading as a show-off of 'shock-a-minute' senselessness.

"Antichrist" is never biblical nor a religious challenge to the higher echelons of Christianity. And though admittedly blasphemous at times, it never ridicules the idea of it. Von Trier and his film is too consummately drawn into the powerful magnet of dark psychological stirs and its toll on the rationality of man that it dared not to look back.

To the detractors, you may ask, "why is this film even in contention to win the Palme d'Or in 2009?" To be honest, upon my initial look into this film, I also asked myself the same. But after looking thoroughly deep enough into what this film has got to say, the question has since faded. "Antichrist" is truly gut-churning as it is an exercise of strange cinematic eloquence.

FINAL RATING

Thor (Kenneth Branagh)

Thor and a lesson in humility.

Now, I'm aware of how everyone was so shocked and so surprised when Kenneth Branagh was chosen to direct this film. Branagh, known to be not that fully acquainted with blockbuster films (although he has starred in a "Harry Potter" installment), has inspired countless speculators as to the reason why he has accepted such a directorial venture. Why would Branagh direct a Marvel film? Why is a Marvel film directed by a Shakespere-inclined actor with little to no experience with action-oriented movies? They asked.

Well, for me, the question should be the other way around: Does this film deserve its director? With that in mind, I watched the film, and in the final run, as I weigh on both the film's pros and cons, I have concluded that the film ultimately did. As for Branagh, well, he capably pulled it off. No sweat.

Chris Hemsworth, which on first impression may seem stiff, played the titular character with surprising effectiveness, comic arrogance, and romantic tenderness. Just his first innocently brusque sequences in the realms of Earth (in New Mexico to be precise) filled with uneasy flamboyance and Viking-like behaviors make his performance very special. Anthony Hopkins, playing King Odin, is your typical noble but strict patriarch. While Tom Hiddleston, the film's most surprising revelation, is quite effective as the chief antagonist and Thor's adoptive brother Loki.

For the human characters, Kat Denning's portrayal of Darcy tried some comic reliefs with all her references to current 'Generation Y' fads just so, you know, she can connect with the younger demographics' funny bones, but she failed. Gladly, she has shut up in the film's second-half. Stellan Skarsgard, always the capable character actor, is here acting within mere stereotypes.

Natalie Portman, on the other hand, is the typical brainy damsel who found some romantic connection with the powerful Norse God and has also been one of the reasons why Thor decided to protect the mortal world.

Now, we've already seen director Branagh play with the wonders of exquisite production design in his rendition of "Hamlet". But this time, he plays with the complicated and chaotic beauty of CGI. Scene after scene, it seems as if he is merely testing his ability to execute every digitally-altered shots that at times, except the establishing shots of Asgard and Jotunheim (where the Frost Giants live), the fast-paced action sequences all seem sketchy, sudden and a bit too shaky and dark. Even the climactic struggle in the Bifrost Bridge, although colorful, majestic, spectacularly surreal and emotionally critical all at the same time, is filled with physically lackluster series of weapon jousting.

In one scene, we see Thor racing against time, flying with his hammer in hand, to confront his mischievous  brother Loki (Tom Hiddleston). It's from moments like this that superheroes of his kind have, time and time again, made names out of. Add up some intense music, battle-face expressions and fragile surroundings and we've got ourselves one perfect superhero situation.

But then the next scene shows Thor landing at the scene with obvious detachment. It could have been a 'great' moment right there, but the whole emotional atmosphere where Branagh could have invested much ultimately lacked the immediacy. In this scene, Thor seems lethargic and confused. What the hell happened?

But on a meritorious side, Kenneth Branagh, with the help of the hammer-clenching Avenger's expansive universe, created a wonderfully-prepared psychological conflict to put the idea of Thor's 'unconditional heroism' into a blurring test between his own kingdom's well-being, which he was born to love and to lead, and the mere mortal reality of Earth, where he learned to embrace the role of being a protector.

Is it his universe or the other? Is it Asgard or Earth? This film, for once, bravely responded without any certain cinematic answers. This is where Thor has succeeded. Throughout the endless showcase of might, magic, monsters and kings, "Thor" attained believability, at least in how a hero weighs in on what matters to him the most. In this case, Thor knows his priorities.

FINAL RATING

Hereafter (Clint Eastwood)

The exhaustion of vision.

The film that seemingly came at a right time considering the stage of Clint Eastwood's career and age already sealed with greatness, composure and productivity. There's not much left to explore for him, so why not the mystery of the afterlife and, at times, tricky to pull off atmosphere of the supernatural? "Hereafter", with its uncommon use of a finely recreated natural disaster and unrelated though interconnected stories, is more of a well-thought curiosity piece whose focus goes everywhere, filmmaking wise, rather than a pure narrative that speaks of some tightly-drawn drama.

It stars Matt Damon in a very vulnerable performance as George, a genuine psychic that considers his insights into the netherworld a curse rather than a gift. Like a "Miss Lonelyhearts", he has given up to what he does best, keeps his profile low, yet the quantity of those who seek for help is at an all-time high. Above his personal and psychological struggles, at the opposite side of existence, he unconsciously serves as the personification of the kid, Marcus' (played by Frankie and George McLaren) primary goal: To find a medium for him to talk to his deceased twin brother.

You know those motifs prevalent throughout ensemble, non-linear films that connects each characters and sub-stories? The briefcase in "Pulp Fiction", the dog in "Amores Perros" or the frog rain in "Magnolia"? In "Hereafter's" case, it is Damon's character and his uncompromising visions; as we witness the emotional plight of the grieving kid and the startling, subconscious discovery of the French journalist, it all forms into a wide round of events that ultimately encircles George and his subsequent interactions with the two.

It's a given that in the film's 2 hour running time, these characters' destiny will soon converge just like other typical films of its kind. How it will come out convincingly and without any contrivances or narrative convolution rests on the handling of the material. And while it's not anything new in terms of cinematic experience, Clint Eastwood has, even in a very meager way, still delivered.

"Hereafter" surely does not belong in the league of Eastwood's very best works; but damn, his directorial range is just astounding. He pulled off something akin to Inarritu's works, filled it with the evocative anticipation of what lies beyond the limits of life and mortal existence, and armed it with consistency.

Judging that Clint Eastwood is not fond of leaving personal trademarks in his films, "Hereafter", although having its own flaws, still came out strengthened by an unhindered emotional urgency and subtly encompassing vision; indeed distinguishable marks of his own. Only the questionable ending disappoints, and the closure for the poor Bryce Dallas Howard character not given enough importance.

Her connection with Damon's character, in my opinion, is much more believable. But thinking that "Hereafter" is a fantasy, I guess the ethereal is preferably highlighted rather than the definite. Dramatic escapism, it ultimately seems.

FINAL RATING

Mr. Nobody (Jaco Van Dormael)

Umm, will those stairs bring me to the end credits of this film?

Film Review Archive (date seen: December 22, 2010)

Very, very simple story about the impossibility of choice mixed randomly with pseudo-intellectual blabbering about life, time, and the complexities of the universe. All right, before someone out there clogs my brain with some mind channeling of such familiar lines as "You don't get the film's point", let this review speak for itself.

Of course, the visuals are very beautiful, 'too good' actually for a film with only a limited release. But eye-popping imagery, as how almost every film watchers out there will probably say, shall always be accompanied by a plot capable of grabbing one's attention for 2 or more hours; emotional and intellectual additions are absolutely sweet bonuses. That's a pretty simple rule of film engagement that "Mr. Nobody" has repeatedly ignored, wallowing itself in its timeline-circling, reality/illusion-breaking narrative, while we, alright, while 'I', sit on the opposite end of the screen always ready to support the film's emotional core, but "Mr. Nobody" looked like as if it prefers not to accommodate the viewers in its swollen intricacies. I would have liked the film's theme even more if it's handled by a more minimalist filmmaker because in that way, the emotions will always matter.

"Mr. Nobody" is an immensely extended music video that sings about the hardships of love, and about the difficulties of a universe heading into constant entropy. But as a film, it's a pretentious exercise of giving a statement about many things by saying patches about each, but never really materializing into one full, coherent sentence. There's a sequence halfway in the film where Nemo Nobody (Jared Leto) said something like: "Let's start back at the beginning". Well I have to say something, Mr. Nobody: "No, Thank you, I'm very much full".

FINAL RATING