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

 

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (Milos Forman)

Randle.

Even though I have watched "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" way back (I think I was in 4th year high school or something), seeing it for the second time after reading the Ken Kesey-written novel from which the film was based is like seeing it anew. With the similarly-titled book conveying an uncanny life and energy that easily stimulates both the raw senses and the imagination, this film adaptation bursts of the same raw vitality of the human spirit fully prevalent in the said literary work. It's as if this film isn't merely a cinematic translation of classic literature but more of a direct affirmation of the material's true underlying power.

Even in just the film's opening scene alone, as we see the car which carries our flawed hero R.P. McMurphy (Jack Nicholson in a performance that only 'he' can call his own) into the mental institution, there's this clear-cut inevitability of a living and breathing cinematic rendition, and how everything, although there were drastic liberties taken by director Milos Forman and company, really seems to fall into place and almost symphonic in a way. Never have I been more excited of seeing a book's setting, which in that case a mental hospital, being visually laid down into separate sets of narrative establishments, and never have I been more compelled to see characters, even clinically-crazy ones at that (which I have treated as my subconscious friends for more than 2 weeks while I read the book), slowly populate the composite spaces of the screen.

Considering that the film is that of a mercurial human drama, inappropriately as it may seem, I was extremely pumped up towards re-watching "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" in the same way as when I'm about to watch a nicely-hyped thriller feature. And as the film, with only slightly more than 2 hours in its sleeve to cover all of the novel's essence, comes to an end, I came to a conclusion which I deem to be very proper: As a mere adaptation, "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" had its issues, particularly the much discussed and polarizing change of the story's main point of view from Chief Bromden (played by Will Sampson) to McMurphy. But as a stand-alone film, it really is quite untouchable in its unwavering capacity to deliver a walloping emotional punch and an unforgettable humanization of a place commonly conceived to have forgotten about it. It is indeed one of the best films of the 70's, and the fact that it has swept all the major honors in the 48th Academy awards agrees with my rave assumption.

What really moves this film forward in terms of both pacing and characterization, aside from the brilliant dynamics of the relationship between Nicholson's defiant McMurphy and Louise Fletcher's great portrayal of a mechanically brutal Nurse Ratched (I wonder if she's an acquaintance of Miss Trunchbull, or Warden Norton perhaps), are the eager and resilient all-around performances by the film's sideshow supporting cast of Acutes and Chronics, specifically early roles by Danny DeVito, Christopher Lloyd and especially the underrated character actor Brad Dourif. Cinematographer Haskell Wexler (edit: I read in the IMDb trivia page that he was actually replaced by Bill Butler early in the production due to Wexler's creative dispute with producer Michael Douglas) finely contrasted the mental institution's structure, both its calm exterior shots and white-painted interiors which symbolically exudes the characters' pristine but insidious imprisonment within a so-called therapeutic environment with the suggestive spark plug-like 'chaos' about to explode at any given time.

Like Milos Forman's earlier "The Firemen's Ball", through the use of quick cuts and rapid verbal noises to highlight the escalation of tension and full-blown disorder, he has painted a fragile mental atmosphere merely held together by the Big Nurse's wide-eyed cold glances and authoritatively monotonous voice, but is forcefully being loosen up by McMurphy's knack for anarchic freewill.

But McMurphy is by no means an enduring hero of sorts. Unlike other inspiring, Oscar bait-y films that have since came out of the bowels of Hollywood, "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" is never meant to be a black and white struggle between the proverbial 'good' and 'evil', but as a timeless study of extreme authority clashing with non-conformity.

Chief Bromden, on the other hand, is our mediator, but at the same time, a conceptual representation of the 'unreliable' narrator (at least in the novel). And as what I've mentioned above, if the varied characters have been my friends for the past 2 weeks or so while I read the book, Bromden has been my bestest there is, and seeing him quite underdeveloped in the film is like reuniting with a good ol' friend of mine again after so many years but mysteriously does not seem to want to talk to me anymore.

But through that crucial flaw, a flaw so detrimental that it has given Ken Kesey enough reason not to watch the film until his dying days, "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" is still a masterful film that blurs the boundaries between comedy and drama, the bittersweet and the tragic.

"But I tried, didn't I? Goddamnit, at least I did that." Great, enduring words from McMurphy which speaks of great meaning regarding the characters' predicament as much as it does to filmmakers in general in the context of literary adaptations. There's a recurring trivia that Ken Kesey, seeing this film one time on TV without knowing that it is indeed "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest", thought it was interesting (of course he immediately found out). Just as what I've said earlier, although in some ways a letdown as an adaptation, it brilliantly succeeds as a film which holds its own ground as a genuine classic of American cinema.

FINAL RATING

Awakenings (Penny Marshall)

Veterans Robert De Niro and Robin Williams in "Awakenings".

Film Review Archive (date seen: November 24, 2010)

There's always a recurring belief in Hollywood among actors that once you played an impaired character on film, then one can already consider him/herself "made". Honestly, that's what I initially thought of "Awakenings", a sentimental film that will do nothing but to put one of the missing pieces of De Niro's more than impressive resume' into place; oh, how wrong I was.

Though his performance was great, it was his sense of belonging among the other encephalitis-stricken characters that made the portrayal so absorbing. To a more flamboyant performer, he could have easily stole every single scene with some scenery-chewing moments. But De Niro, having to do justice to such a critical character, has carried himself with methodical devotion as Leonard Lowe. Going into great lengths to show the physical sufferings of an encephalitis victim, but also hinting, with subtle motions and glances, the depths of the characters' heart and the reaches of his mind that was enclosed inside a physical limbo for 30 years.

But the best performance came from Robin Williams (though not nominated for an Academy Award) as the socially awkward Dr. Sayer, whose characterization started in the middle but ended on something to begin with. My tears, tested by the span of years I've been watching films, are quite adamant to sentimental displays on screen. But this one, since "Letters from Iwo Jima", I think, finally persuaded them to just trickle down in peace. Although based on a true story, I will always think of the film's "awakenings" as a symbolic series of inner defiance, brought forth by the indomitable power of the human spirit struggling against the shackles of physical invalidity.

FINAL RATING