La Jetée (The Pier) (Chris Marker)

The moment.

If pictures can paint a thousand words, then "La Jetée", directed by the late Chris Marker, has solidly proven that putting them in succession can also tell a story that's way ahead of time and can also impart a futuristic idea that's both thematically transcendent and deeply human. Let Terry Gilliam's "Twelve Monkeys" serve as the main testament of the film's far-reaching influence. 

     

Composed only of black and white stills and a moody narration (by Jean Négroni), "La Jetée" is a surprising proof of the power of cinematic narrative even when there are no literal movements on screen. It's also a film that treads the territories of hard science fiction, the elliptical tendencies of time and some probing existentialism. Although the narration was structured like that of a poem, it has not fallen in the clutches of vagueness. 

     

The use of the photographs has also fascinated me because it has given the film an otherworldly feel, a sense of ironic calm (even amid its apocalyptic premise) and its own distinct identity as an art piece. Even with the utter simplicity of its execution, the film was still very successful in telling a complex story of humanity trapped within the cycle of life and death, memories and time. Well, maybe we will never see a film quite like "La Jetée" again.

FINAL RATING

 

Biutiful (Alejandro González Iñárritu)

Uxbal.

After his emotionally powerful "Death Trilogy", Alejandro González Iñárritu has since left us to wonder what will be his next step. Enter "Biutful", an emotionally devastating and painful film that has, at least, shown what Iñárritu can do by relying purely on his own emotions as a filmmaker. 

With this film sorely missing Guillermo Arriaga's powerhouse screenplays which have made his three previous films infinitely more special than they already are, Alejandro González Iñárritu, impressively, has never faltered in handling the film's dramatic eloquence as he guides it seamlessly both in how its story will unfold and how its emotional investments will pay off. What's also very commendable is how Iñárritu was able to tell an encompassing tale even when the very film itself is only limited through an almost singular (which is Javier Bardem's Uxbal) point of view. 

If the films in the "Death Trilogy" were able to intimately portray mosaics of happenstance character interactions through multiple and overlapping subplots, "Biutiful's" approach is more simple but one that's still with a similar feel, with a lesser chance of having contrivances in its execution due to its more plain narrative structure. And by far, this may also be his most personal film. 

Being dedicated to his father, "Biutiful" is not just a film that merely tells a thoroughly fictional tale made special by the abundance of gritty realism. Behind every emotions, actions, and decisions, those of which determine the fate of everyone in the film, Iñárritu is seemingly backing all of them up piece by piece with a love poem, fully manifested in the film's numerous scenes of poignancy, for his father and to the very beauty of redemption and personal peace. So touching and emotionally provoking this figurative love poem really is that in the end of the film, what one may feel is both sadness and transcendence; two aspects that we surely can find in an Alejandro González Iñárritu film. 

The film tells the story of Uxbal (Javier Bardem), a weary man who, after being informed by a doctor that he is terminally ill, tries to fulfill his paternal role to his children to the fullest that he can, mend the emotional distance between him and his bipolar wife Maramba (Maricel Alvarez), and make his every actions matter as much as possible within the two-month time frame that he has left. What makes him even more on the edge, aside from the fact that he is dying, is his involvement in illegal dealings with two Chinese businessmen and his unusual gift of being able to talk to dead people. 

In a sense, "Biutiful" might be what Clint Eastwood's "Hereafter" wants to be in the sense of how the former has successfully injected the tender yet tormented nuance of the afterlife. And also, maybe, "Biutiful" is the perfect antidote to Rob Reiner's extremely romanticized and sweetened take on terminal illness in the form of "The Bucket List". But then, none of this would have been that possible if not because of the actors involved. 

With tour de force performances by Javier Bardem, who has never looked so emotionally vulnerable and physically weak on film, and Maricel Alvarez as his wife, scenes flow easier and more naturally that it has heightened the film's sense of brutal honesty regarding the usually painful fact of life of having so much to do with so short a time. But aside from this vibrantly existential vibe, "Biutiful" also tackles the more alarming issues of abusive blue-collar exploitation and illegal settlements on foreign lands, but not in the form of a subdued social commentary. Instead, they have been turned into subplots which make up not just the very soul of the story and of Uxbal himself but also a very potent and pungent portrayal of life's numerous social truths. 

Playing a playboy painter who leads a bohemian life in Woody Allen's "Vicky Cristina Barcelona", here in "Biutiful", Javier Bardem now portrays a man living on the, I'm clinging on a cliche here, edge of society desperately trying to be the best father, husband and person that he can be amid the surrounding poverty. Through these dichotomous performances in both films, Javier Bardem has exposed the extremes of Barcelona in terms of human existence, with the latter one shining forth within Iñárritu's masterful directorial hands. 

To be a bit personal, my affinity towards Alejandro González Iñárritu's films started with my initially perplexed reaction to his film "Babel" (the last film in his "Death Trilogy" but is, ironically, his first film that I have seen), with that slow pacing, raw performances and ethereal musical scoring by Gustavo Santaolalla. Then followed up by "Amores Perros", "21 Grams", and a further "Babel" rewatch, I think it's just apt to say that his films are the ones that have truly introduced me to the emotional complexity of cinema. And after seeing "Biutiful", a film with an intensely beating heart, I reminisce the trilogy, and again, I'm hearing the guitars.

FINAL RATING

Rise of the Planet of the Apes (Rupert Wyatt)

Andy Serkis as Caesar.

Just when Hollywood is being continuously filled up with useless prequels and countless spin-offs, here's "Rise of the Planet of the Apes" looking at us with eyes all straight and determined. Filled with awe-inspiring sequences that reminds me of the first time I saw the gigantic wonders of Spielberg's "Jurassic Park", it's a 'make or break' film that may easily solidify and further cement the fact that the 'Planet of the Apes' franchise is long dead and gone. But guess what? With what this film has achieved with its intelligent narrative and surprisingly compassionate emotional exposition, it re-integrates itself into the gallery of other science fiction greats and dare declare its reverberated pulse.

At least from what I've watched in the original Franklin J. Schaffner film, the first "Planet of the Apes" film relies on the lonesome breath of its human characters (particularly Charlton Heston's character) because with apes around you and nothing more, where else would you? It is the sense of emotional neutrality that separates this film from the said 1968 film that has also able to give this prequel a hair-raising feel of both suspense and warmth.

But before anything else, the film, directed by Rupert Wyatt with an ability to back his already compelling narrative with balanced kinetics and drama, of course assumes that you already knew that Earth and the titular planet, at least in its make-believe reality, is the same (thanks to one of the greatest cinematic twists in movie history). In fact, that's basically what this film is all about: the establishment of how apes has taken over the world and why. But what makes this film stand out, though, is its switch of perspectives without touching the chords of its already finely-toned dramatic impartiality.

We may feel sympathy towards the apes from time to time, but this film incurs its strength more by means of empathy, which cannot be achieved into great effect if not because of Andy Serkis' remarkable motion-capture performance as the aptly named primate Caesar (after the great Roman Emperor). We thought that his role as Gollum was the towering and unprecedented milestone in his career, but this film offers great contest that some may think twice. His Caesar holds its own with its distinct sense of tenderness and logical brute force.

It's a fair belief that CGI characters, no matter how feverishly dramatic they can be, still will never equal that of a real actor's mark. Serkis' Caesar is different, and so was the other primates. There's something uniquely powerful in their ability to exercise the meager traits of simple humanity that they seem to quietly re-invigorate the nuances of being human. And balanced by a strong lead role by James Franco as Will Rodman, "Rise of the Planet of the Apes" is an utterly convincing tale of compassion and connection amid an immense evolutionary barrier.

Supporting roles include Freida Pinto, whose performance quietly shouts of 'generic leading lady', John Lithgow, who gave a brief but resonant one as Will Rodman's father, and Tom Felton as Draco Malfoy. Oh, sorry, as Dodge Langdon. Talk about stereotype casting. He's been through these 'bullying' and all for 8 movies. Come on, move on, mate.

The film, although advertised more for its visual effects, is still more about the tension of the build-up rather than it is about the climactic siege of the Golden Gate Bridge. True, the final action setpiece left me and all the other viewers in utter awe, but the scene when Caesar defiantly shouts "No!" for the first time as his tongue finally reaches the capacity of human language, has inspired the audience around me to utter a resounding "Whoa!"

If such middle scenes can simulate such reaction, you know the film's doing something right. And how more can it be right? By immediate standards, this is how you do a prequel. With a miniature Statue of Liberty and the Icarus spacecraft on the side. Fully aware of its source film and gratefully so.

FINAL RATING

Moon (Duncan Jones)

'I've done something like this before.'

A Second Viewing.

Clones and artificial intelligences on films, although must not even be extracting discoveries of human nature aside from their clockwork selves in the first place, are, time and time again, tested by the burden of emotional conflicts and the endless quest to belong. Be it the great "Blade Runner" or Spielberg's more contemporary "A.I". We have seen them strive from the pains of misunderstanding and perceptions of technological stigma seen from sociologically-grounded eyes. Here in "Moon", with Sam Rockwell delivering a one-man virtuoso performance, the further extremities are reached; they are even deprived of mainstream reality.

I think it's quite impossible to review and analyze this film without divulging some plot revelations or two, so here we go, spoiler warning. Sam Bell (Rockwell) is an astronaut near the end of his 3-year contract and is about to come home and away from the lunar solitude of the moon. After some startling discoveries, he found out that he, although how confident, is not what he may seem to be. When he saw his fellow clone, at first, he is in denial. He initially asserts that it's nothing but a delusion. They found out that the real Sam Bell has returned to earth for many years. Instead, they have been developed from the original's DNA for the Lunar Industries company to save expenses from man power. Their innocence is the companies' assets, their awareness of it all is a grave liability.

Then the two Sam Bell clones saw more 'Sam Bells' underneath a secret room waiting to be awakened, as if frozen goods in a morgue. After their identity conflicts and superficial fights, the two Sam Bells called it quits. They're after all, riding the same boats and braving the same chained limitations of complete anonymity.

With the help of Clint Mansell's subtly rousing score, ethereal and all, and Duncan Jones' reflective direction regarding his honest commentary about the staggering effects of unreachable memories and make-believe psychological realities , "Moon" appeared to be the most eloquent and even poetic of all sci-fi films for a considerably long time to ironically depict the strength and warmth of human nature in the most artificial of physical bodies and the most remote of places.

'We're people', the second Sam Bell (at least in the narrative's exposition) told GERTY, his loyal A.I. assistant (voiced by Kevin Spacey) that is the complete polar opposite of "2001's" "HAL". The words, however simple, reminded them of what they are. Although true human emotions aren't given to them by birthright but merely implanted, they have proved with their evocative bond that they have certainly earned it.

Duncan Jones brought us a film that shows how 'clones' invest tears on memories. Then subsequently, how memories inspire pathos. Although "Moon" is a fairly simple story about what it takes to be human, it's also about the true blue power of emotions and cherished pasts.

It is from these that the unknowing clones squeezed out their existential goals and validated their humanity. But ultimately, it is also from those that the film itself has empowered the beauty of human nature with great transcendence. A 'nature' that leaped limitless boundaries and into the far side of the moon; a place where it has evolved into its truest form.

FINAL RATING

Downfall (Oliver Hirschbiegel)

A teary-eyed Hitler.

Epic mosaic of war-time Germany in the brink of Nazism's fall and can also be an ultimate film portrayal of extremist pride. I was quite surprised at how expansive the film has been in terms of parallel narratives, be it the brief story of a Hitler Youth's father or Traudl Junge's (played by Alexandra Maria Lara) observant but deeply emotional involvement with the life within the claustrophobic bunker. All of these pieces converge and circle around Adolf Hitler himself and his central deterioration from being a brain-washing, all-knowing tyrant/political rhetorician into a man grasping helplessly for desperate pride and twisted ideologies.

The Fuhrer to which the story focused its attention most of the time was brilliantly played by Bruno Ganz. Yes. Bruno Ganz. That sweet philosophically lovelorn angel in "Wings of Desire", now portraying the "worst ethnic cleanser the world has ever known". There has been numerous transmutations (even an alternate reality) of Hitler's cinematic persona, but after seeing "Downfall", with his undying ego and his stubborn final salvo for what he calls 'principle' perfectly portrayed by this film inside out, surface and within, no other cinematic evocation of Hitler and his life would be as definitive as this one.

"Downfall" never intended to entirely humanize Adolf Hitler (though I spotted some tears in his eyes). It merely gave a personification of a seemingly invincible prime ruler of the Aryan race and stripped him off of all the enigma and occultic intrigue. What we have is a Hitler stumbling and shouting his way into his defeat; a headfirst descent into ruins reciprocated by last-minute theatrics disguised as unswayed authority.

FINAL RATING