All About My Mother (Pedro Almodovar)

Cecilia Roth as Manuela.

With the brilliant "Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown" being the Pedro Almodovar film I've watched prior to this, his exploration of the unparalleled emotional strength of women, at least in my self-chronology, continues on with "All About My Mother", a film that lightly caresses your heart with its poignancy but also puts into humorous situations after another the subtle absurdity of life. Although it's Almodovar's witty screenplay that is the film's beating heart, it's the sheer talent of its cast that has fueled it with pure and unbridled energy.

Performances by Cecilia Roth, who played the main character Manuela, a single-parent hardened by the terrible highs and lows of life, Marisa Paredes as the stage actress Huma Rojo, Penelope Cruz who contrasts all the other performances with her subdued turn as Sister Rosa, and especially Antonia San Juan's colorful portrayal of the character Agrado (the best performance in the film), a person whose socially unacceptable transsexualism never hindered her from being an optimistic representation of a hard-living modern woman, sweeten the screen with a unique vigor for life.

The film's title, "All About My Mother", when you look at how the narrative has unveiled itself, does not fully suggest that the film is indeed purely about Manuela's individual exploits as she searches on to locate her son's father and as she takes care of numerous colorful characters. With the use of the possessive pronoun 'My', which of course pertains to Manuela's son Esteban, who before dying in a tragic car accident wishes to know who his father is and who, after death, may have continued to look down upon her mother as she copes up with his death, with her quest and with life itself, it suggests that the story is spiritually progressing through Esteban's birthright to know his father. So the film, in essence, does not merely get its life force from Manuela alone, but also from the memory of Esteban's final wish.

"All About My Mother" is, in context, a humanist adventure fueled by a two-sided notion for a tribute: One given by the already omniscient Esteban in an underlying manner, who flowers up her mother's endeavors by means of his prose taken from his diary, and one by Manuela herself as she tries to keep the fire burning in Esteban's torch of memory by way of fulfilling his dying wish: To find his father.

Unlike the later "Goodbye, Lenin!", a film from which we rarely see the character of the mother but infinitely more of her son as he desperately find ways to fend off any shock or surprises that may worsen her health, "All About My Mother" views this idea of a parent-child relationship in an opposite way by championing the concept of a mother's love to her son (instead of the other way around), but in an equally unconditional light.

In the film's entirety, its urgency is more inclined towards the dramatic rather than the comic. Of course, the spontaneity of the more humorous moments adds to the film's effective tonal shifts from colorful to gray and vice versa, but "All About My Mother" is infinitely more important to be absorbed as a drama that articulates the emotional context of promises, mistakes and reconciliations rather than as a comedy of blunders, innuendos and homosexuality. Nonetheless, the film works in either way.

But what has slightly put me off about the film, on the other hand, is its running time. Pedro Almodovar greeted our senses with exuberant, highly original characters yet ends the film with suddenness. It's one thing for a film to end and for us to want more, but to ask for more plainly because something lacks is another. I don't know what I've felt between the two when the film has ended, but I surely would have loved the film more if it would have been a bit longer, and I don't care if the conflict is already resolved. Well, on second thought, maybe it's just delusion.

FINAL RATING

Annie Hall (Woody Allen)

Annie and Alvy, Diane and Woody; it's either way.

A second viewing.

Looking at the gallery of the previous Oscar winners for best picture, "Annie Hall" is definitely one of the most unorthodox and unglazed of all the films that have won the coveted prize. No majestic scope, no larger-than-life characters and no unreachable emotional core, but only an accessibly psychoanalytical and pop-intellectual presence of Woody Allen and his one-liners. Oh, and there's also the impeccable Diane Keaton as the titular character (whose real name is, well you've guessed it: Diane 'Annie' Hall) whose unassumingly fluctuating romance with Allen's character Alvy Singer founds the film's distinct postmodernist approach to the uber-complicated thing we all call 'love'.

Opening scenes meter what we can expect from a particular film's wholeness, be it an initial action scene or a non-linear middle scene pushed right into the beginning. We are introduced into "Annie Hall" with a monologue by Woody Allen, to which I'm not sure if he's uttering his entry comic speech as him being Alvy Singer, the other way around or a random combination of both. Either way, it's a subtle delivery that may not give the immediate feel of the film but definitely serves unto us the fragile wholeness of our neurotic main character. Why is he even talking to us in the first place? Is he really that lonely in his own reality of 'death' and isolated 'mental masturbation' that he wills himself to break the fourth wall?

Unlike other 'love' stories that preceded "Annie Hall" which starts with impossible chance encounters and ends with reconciliations, this film started somewhere where Alvy and Annie's romantic complications are at an all-time high but their emotional excitement for each other at an all-time low. Then like an unsure blend of fantasy and reality, the film then traces the pieces of how this 'nervous romance' came to be, or at least something like that. But with the tone of the film, which I believe can go on for days and days (the movie itself) even without an audience (this Woody Allen fellow really talks a lot), it's apt to say that the film really couldn't care less.

The ability to enact both a pessimistic existential viewpoint (according to Alvy, the 'horrible' and the 'miserable' are the only dividends of life) and an indifferent humor throughout yet hints on an underlying warmth beneath its 'foreskin'. This is one of the unique aspects of the film which certainly gave it the prestigious Oscar award. Right now, the said award is nothing but history, and although I think that "Annie Hall" hasn't aged that well, its portrayal of the distorted nuances of 'love' and 'contemporary existence' never did.

Written and directed by Woody Allen himself, I know that it's not quite right, chronologically and qualitatively speaking, that I was introduced into Allen's works (not counting "Vicky Cristina Barcelona") via "Annie Hall", a film that is widely considered to be the artistic zenith of his film career.

Now on the other hand, although I loved every moment of how Woody Allen and Diane Keaton's effortless chemistry pervades the screen through and through, their dialogue exchanges that seem like trivial conversations between two not-so-special souls and their consummate embraces and kisses amidst a backdrop of a surprisingly subdued New York City (photography by Gordon Willis), I really can't see myself as Alvy Singer.

Reckon how other 'love story' heroes mirror us one way or another? This is Woody Allen's difference. He can look as plain, thin and 'balding' as he is, but at least, his Alvy Singer is never completely us. A character that is molded more out of clumsy ubiquity (based on his sometimes alienating but seemingly all-knowing one-bit opinions and whatnot) than crazy human simplicity.

Granted, "Annie Hall" is a complex film of romantic proportions, but its heart lies within two key jokes uttered by Alvy himself: the humorous 'elderly women' analogy and the 'chicken brother' joke. Unnoticed as it may seem, these jokes weren't just meant to give a start and end transition for the whole film but a perceptive change for Alvy Singer himself. And like the autobiographical stage play that he has created near the end of the film, after all his musings about the futility of life and the importance of death, he simply wants his romance warm and eternalized, just like everyone else.

FINAL RATING

The Truman Show (Peter Weir)

A touch.

Our protagonist's name is Truman. Of course it's a play on the words 'true' and 'man', implying that he is the only person in his make-believe reality that is, well, living a genuine existence. But from that simple wordplay materializes a fascinating exploration of an individual's awakening consciousness in the midst of a soap opera-like artificiality. If ever you find out that the perceived life around you is nothing but a novel-length script and the people that surround you nothing but a mass collection of actors and bit players, would you lash out? If yes, won't you consider the utopia of a perfect life that it has got to offer? An existence where everyone is your friend and vice versa? A life without any blemishes save for the occasional ones of your own? This is what "The Truman Show" has raised with emotional wonder and revelatory humor, while adding up an unforgettably absurdist, over-the-top view of the advantageous inner core of media's wholeness. From that combination, the film, directed by Peter Weir and written by Andrew Niccol, which could have also been directed by Frank Capra and penned by Paddy Chayefsky (of "Network") in their heydays, is an optimistic, sometimes dramatic, at times laughably satiric contemporary classic whose spirit-soaring vibes only Hollywood can pull off. With enough visionary intent, that is.

"Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" proved that Jim Carrey is infinitely better in non-comedic roles and "The Truman Show" only furthered the fact. He plays Truman Burbank, the unknowing reality TV show personality, with perfect humor and pathos that combine to inspire empathy. And through his portrayal, he also ignites in the process the hidden paranoiac within us all. What if my whole family is unreal? What if they bring home groceries merely because of advertising commitments? You may say it's far-fetched, but it's a valid psychological condition, and it has a name ("The Truman Show Delusion", or simply, "The Truman Syndrome"). Now back to Jim Carrey's acting, his antics, exaggerated and all, is littered everywhere but were never the focus of the film. The laughs, although not as loud and boisterous as how a common comedy film would have evoked it, are much more rewarding.

It's never Jim Carrey all the time. No, it was not just him that produces the focal comedy, but the idea of his character's place and situation. Consider the scene where he's (as Truman) driving his car when suddenly the car radio goes out of frequency and unexpectedly feeds off a stoic, trained narration/instruction of his present place and the street he is currently driving through. He then reacts with sublime surprise far from his usual face-distorting persona that made him a household name. But nevertheless, we laughed. I laughed. The crew's technical glitches, Truman's ever-smiling, by-the-book wife Meryl (impressively played by Laura Linney), even the countless advertisements in between Truman's life. Sure, there is Jim Carrey and his embodiment of a modern cinematic funnyman in the center, but "The Truman Show", with its knock-out visual splendor, energy and existentialist views, extracts its comedy from endless sources other than its central actor. That is one of the instances where the richness of a material really shows. It's got a scene-stealing actor headlining, but the film never delved to fully capitalize on him. Its foundations are indeed strong enough and the film preferred it for Carrey to purely act and embrace Truman Burbank and not the other way around. The latter would have been too distracting.

But I have to admit, I have raised an eyebrow on some of the technologies used in the film, notably the water and wind-controlling system that simulates a storm and the artificial moon that serves as the night light of Truman's town and also harbors the ubiquitous Christof (the ever-reliable Ed Harris), the puppet master of it all, and his crew. The concept of that particular control room is too visually excessive that they look more like megalomaniacal Bond villains than TV show staffs. But looking at both sides, that brief complain of mine can also be counterpointed by the fact that "The Truman Show" IS a satire, and also, maybe because the film is consciously set in a not so distant future with an ambiguous time frame so creation of things bordering implausibility are completely acceptable.

"The Truman Show" is and always will be a perennial feel-good movie, with Jim Carrey showing his competence on playing a transcendent character that reminds a lot of Jimmy Stewart's unique everyman appeal. But beyond the laughter and tears, the film is also a fascinatingly original depiction of what mainstream media has ultimately become, from its initial innocence to its present condition almost completely akin to gratuitous voyeurism. It shows the bastardization of entertainment and its toll on its unaware and unwilling participants. And with that, "The Truman Show", made in 1998 some years before the true boom of reality shows, is indeed quite prophetic. Ed Harris' Christof a mirror of TV's "Big Brother"? Who would have known?

FINAL RATING

I Heart Huckabees (David O. Russell)

Dustin Hoffman and Lily Tomlin: Existential Detectives

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FINAL RATING

The Darjeeling Limited (Wes Anderson)

Heading into reconnection.

Film Review Archive (date seen: October 21, 2010)

I liked "The Darjeeling Limited" mainly because of the fact that it never did flirt with the idea of it being a semi-conscious travelogue about India. Wes Anderson has able to focus the whole film to the three brothers and their emotionally eccentric journey into the meditative heart of the Indian landscapes, to reclaim the bond they've lost, and to break the barriers of their estrangement with each other.

Do not expect the much revered Taj Mahal to appear here, as this film isn't going for specific Indian itineraries but a colorful generalization of India as a whole rendered in dream-like hues. Expected from the three main actors and from director Wes Anderson himself, deadpan humor is littered throughout, but all put together not just for the sake of random laughs, but each one a step further towards a slow but believable cycle of the triumvirate's relational development.

It's an intended comic touch how the film assumed that the characters can be changed by the enchanting meditations and rituals India has to offer and actually showed very little of it. Instead, it's the simple fact of their natural brotherhood that has made the difference, and the peacock feathers and "Kumkum" marks merely as symbolic flares to rekindle the bond. Cameo by Bill Murray (sort of like his "Lost in Translation" character relocated in India) and Natalie Portman.

FINAL RATING