Les Misérables (Tom Hooper)

Cosette.

Certainly the most visually stunning film of the year, "Les Misérables" is no doubt a musical picture of epic proportions that's passionately held together by numerous powerful performances. Running close to 3 hours, the film is indeed a cinematic dream come true for musical fans, but may also prove to be quite an extensive chore to watch for non-musical lovers. In a way, the song numbers may often tend to delay the film's otherwise smooth narrative progression, which is truly a proof of how musicals are more focused on prioritizing moods, emotions and internal turbulence rather than the stories themselves. As a song number ends and another one begins, I can't help but notice the audience's numerous laughs of disbelief as they uncomfortably twitch and readjust in their seats. "Les Misérables", despite its all-star cast and visual spectacle, is indeed not for everyone. But nonetheless, it's still powerful stuff, with Anne Hathaway and Hugh Jackman leading the way. 

     

Peter Greenaway, a visionary independent filmmaker, has once suggested that film adaptations (specifically Jane Austen's) are nothing but wastes of time. This statement may prove to be quite apt to this recent cinematic incarnation of "Les Misérables", but there's something in this Tom Hooper-directed version that is just quite transcendent to behold. One of them, quite naturally, is the performances, which were all elevated by a sense of both larger-than-life romanticism and subtle humanity. But the one who has really moved me close to tears is Anne Hathaway's performance as Fantine. Enhanced by the film's stylistic preference of capturing the song numbers in stark close-up shots (quite reminiscent of Carl Theodor Dreyer's "The Passion of Joan of Arc") rather than in flowing camera movements, Ms. Hathaway has delivered what may be the best performance of the year and the greatest of her career so far. Honestly, her rendition of "I Dreamed a Dream" is just so emotionally perfect and devastatingly heart-breaking that even at this very moment while writing this review, I'm still having some goose bumps. With echoes of Maria Falconetti in her performance, Anne Hathaway, despite her short screen time, has proven that although Jean Valjean's (Hugh Jackman) path to redemption is the real focus of "Les Misérables", it was her Fantine that is the anchoring soul of the film. I'm not exaggerating here or anything, but I do think that Anne Hathaway's "I Dreamed a Dream" scene is already worth the price of admission alone. 

     

But as expected, Hugh Jackman, whose resume boasts of a Tony award, is also pitch perfect in the role of Jean Valjean, who's just effortless in his embodiment of the character's rapid emotional transitions, usually from emotional fury to silent gentility and then back again. But let's not also forget Russell Crowe in the very complex role of Javert, who is very believable in his portrayal of the said character's adherence to both blind justice and pure conviction. Although his voice, as what other people complain about, quite lacks the power and range needed for such a crucial character, his facial expressions and imposing presence more than makes up for it. There's also the film's sleeper performance in the form of Samantha Barks' Eponine, who just shined in the role, especially in her "On My Own" number. On the other hand, Sacha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonham Carter, although in their usual element, never quite did it for me because, well, they're just too humorously ho-hum in their roles. 

     

Admittedly, "Les Misérables" is a film that's quite dated in its themes and very derivative in its revolutionary spirit. But nonetheless, it was still able to connect with me on a very nationalistic level specifically because of its numerous parallels with Jose Rizal's (Philippines' National Hero) "Noli Me Tangere" and "El Filibusterismo". As the film reaches its final crescendo and as the screen goes to black, it's as if I've watched an actual West End production, but this time with all of "Les Misérables'" 'sound and fury' magnified a hundredfold. "Les Misérables", an emotionally overwhelming musical film, is a textbook example of how stunning the marriage of stage and film can be when done right.

FINAL RATING

Monty Python's The Meaning of Life (Terry Jones, Terry Gilliam)

The Python troupe.

4 years after "Life of Brian", the Monty Python troupe, composed of John Cleese, Eric Idle, Michael Palin, Graham Chapman, Terry Jones and Terry Gilliam, is back and as insightful and profound as ever in "The Meaning of Life", a surrealistic comic masterpiece that is quite possibly their most ambitious film ever. Hell, I wouldn't even bother to label it as their best. 

     

Unlike the previous two Python features, namely "Holy Grail" and "Life of Brian", both of which have modicums of a narrative, "The Meaning of Life" is infinitely more lose, non-cohesive and random. It is, for me, their most 'stream of consciousness' creation of the three. Opening with an awe-inspiring short involving geriatric employees and their very pirate-like attempt to take over the world's whole economic landscape, it is quite easy to see how bigger in scope "The Meaning of Life" is compared to the comic troupe's previous creations. And as the film progresses, it's also quite wondrous to sense and feel that Monty Python has since fully grown not just as an assemblage of comic geniuses but also as a thought-provoking lot. 

     

Ranging from sex to the very idea of heaven, hell and death, "The Meaning of Life" tackles almost everything under the sun (alas, even the very creation of sun itself and its brotherly stars), over the war-time trenches and inside the uterus. Split into various chapters, "The Meaning of Life" is comprised of sketches that are overwhelmingly funny yet also poignant with the truths that each of them speaks. And although the film's main intent is to leave you in stitches, it will also make you laughingly question yourself as to how relevant your minuscule place in this universe really is. But do not worry; Eric Idle will treat you with an affirming song of how miraculous your birth really is. And no, there's not a hint of sarcasm both in the tune and the lyrics. Despite of the film's bizarrely mocking tone, the film is embedded with an indelible humanity that actually means what it wants to say. Suddenly, here is Monty Python, the most humanly offensive and irreverent comic group that has ever graced the screens both small and big, traversing their most vulnerably human side. 

     

For me, what eagerly exemplifies this side is the scene when Eric Idle's French waiter character leads the camera (presumably representing us, the viewers) in a relatively long walk towards his humble home. He then explains, in a very non-philosophical, layman's manner, the meaning, for him, of life. "You see that house? That is where I was born. My mother said to me, "Garcon. The world is a beautiful place, and you must spread joy and contentment everywhere you go."" That was what Idle's waiter character has stated. Although it's a random, seemingly out of left field scene that's truly in contrast with the rest of the film's tone, it nonetheless strikes me as very life-affirming and, to a certain extent, even worthy of tears. 

     

Yes, "Life of Brian" is arguably their greatest work, but I will always reserve a special place both in my heart and mind for "The Meaning of Life". Not only is it a proof of how Monty Python is and will always be the best in terms of avant-garde comedy, it has also solidified the fact that the Python troupe indeed never lacks the silent sensitivity needed to tackle the very nuance of human existence itself. They have just made God quite irate, is all. 

     

Personally, I find "The Meaning of Life" to be more than just a comedy. Fittingly, I have watched it at around three o'clock in the morning. Waking up, I felt as if I haven't had a dream. Well, maybe the Sandman have had quite a hard time replicating or even surpassing the things I have just seen. The Pythons may have given the Dreamer a run for his money.

FINAL RATING 

 

Ang Babae sa Septic Tank (Marlon Rivera)

On the way to Mr. Smithberger.

It might initially appear that this latest Cinemalaya triumph is particularly a well-tread filmic practice of traditional Philippine neorealism. But as it unravels in a fashion only a knowingly self-conscious deconstructive film can do, what it appeared to be was a creative blend of fantastical quasi-realism and full-fledged, jargon-filled nuances between the independent film scene and the commercial movie industry highlighted and fueled by Eugene Domingo’s eagerly commanding “Being John Malkovich-like” parody of herself.

But do not be misled, although Ms. Domingo and her much-hyped (thanks to well-played news columns by gossip writers) ‘plunge’ into the titular brown hole is the highlight of the film from a moviegoer’s viewpoint, “Ang Babae sa Septic Tank” is essentially more about the film’s two visionary and free-spirited characters’ episodic adventures and whatnot. One a director (played by Kean Cipirano) and the other, a producer (JM De Guzman) who both display a certain raw energy typically steaming out from fresh grads, they are both struggling, amidst a cover of coffee-drinking comforts and ‘higher than anything else’ aspirations (they really much prefer Oscars than Cannes) to take a daringly unconventional independent film into fruition.

“Ang Babae sa Septic Tank”, directed by Marlon Rivera and written by Chris Martinez who clearly shows both his humorous outlook and comic disdain towards cinematic nuisances (such as product placements and the industry’s nauseating ‘diva’ culture), is not necessarily about the technicalities, logistics or the pressuring deadlines of making movies. Hell, there’s barely a scene involving movie crews, cameras and stuff. Unlike, say, Truffaut’s “Day for Night” which is purely about the ups and downs of such, this film is more about the endlessly playful landscapes of the mind going colorfully amok in the middle of a mind-boggling series of script conceptualizations and cerebral storyboarding. If countless ‘movies-within-movies’ dissect the fascinating days of principal photography, “Ang Babae sa Septic Tank” is inclined towards the fragility of pre-production.

The posters, the cast, the performances, even the overall treatment of the film within the film (which is entitled “Walang-wala”). These were taken into the open. Through a surprisingly muted character played by Cai Cortez, “Walang-wala” shifts through the different parallel realities of ‘what if’ movie scenarios via her daydreams and nap musings. For a film of immense creativity that caters its refreshingly postmodernist feel with exuberance and humor for a wider audience, using a non-speaking role as a medium to transcend the lucidly brittle “Walang-wala” film ideas is inexcusably lazy. But considering that the film is overwhelmed by endless modern Filipino vernaculars coming from Kean Cipriano and JM de Guzman’s mouths sugar-coated as loudly superfluous tirades and ‘two-cent’ dialogues and the parody Eugene Domingo sounding, acting and demanding like the real-life Kris Aquino, it’s a balancing tonic to see someone whose mouth is completely shut.

Normal to many independent films, “Ang Babae sa Septic Tank” is also filled with inspired performances from its cast, specifically Eugene Domingo as her alternative reality self, whose scene of her accepting the script from the two maverick filmmakers may have been mirroring her genuine real-life reaction in accepting this film. A true breath of fresh air for her considering the formulaic haze of mainstream movies that she has previously starred in. But the best performance in the film, which I never have foreseen even from the farthest of distance (maybe me being unaware of him helped) is the bit role of Arthur Poongbato, a satiric character that pokes fun of award-conscious indie directors, played effortlessly by Tad Tadioan.

But then again, “Ang Babae sa Septic Tank” is never a full-blown satire either nor a distinct celebration of the independent film spirit. Though the film can be a small-dosed mix of both, it’s mainly a subtly unnerving little film that highlights the forgotten urban plight of the impoverished that merely serve as harrowing textures of countless filmmakers’ attempt for superficial cinematic social commentaries.

"Majestic". One of them mouthed in ecstasy as they see the layered kingdom of make-shift carton houses and rusty tin-roofed shanties visually asking to be filmed. But what the film turned out to be, ultimately, is a tragicomic exposition of the characters’ internal realization that not everything adheres with their own cinematic vision and artistic conviction. As the film heads into a gob-smacking head-on collision course with reality, there’s this brooding clarity.

And as we see Eugene Domingo visually transform into the titular woman that could have easily been the scene that can elicit the silliest of laughter in the whole film, there’s this great sense that it is more profoundly symbolic than it is immediately graphic. It stared at cinematic apathy strong-eyed while inside a pungent hole of sobering truth.

The film ended with audience’s heartily fading laughter and tender smiles. For that sole reason, the integration of “Ang Babae sa Septic Tank” as a comedy vehicle into mainstream cinemas fully succeeded. But I hope the film left an impression that is much more than that.

FINAL RATING

Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (Mel Stuart)

Gene Wilder as Willy Wonka.

Oh, If only I can turn back time. A review coming from a person that has first watched the 2005 Tim Burton adaptation way before this family classic, I got my perspectives the wrong way. I got the comparative order jumbled. When it should have been the later film being compared to the numerous strengths of the earlier one, I had it the other way around. But enough of that, let's move on.

Throughout the entire time I'm watching this film, I can't help but feel that the Willy Wonka character has virtually no backstory, let alone the exposition of his real reason why he closed his factory to the public save for Grandpa Joe's (played by Jack Albertson) unimaginative retelling of the said tale. But beyond Wonka's build-up in the film that may potentially treat his character merely as a golden ticket distributor, moderator and tour guide into the whole film and nothing more, Gene Wilder bursts into the scenery with impeccable style in the most literal sense.

As he first walks through a red carpet, with supporting cane and all, that stretches from his factory's double-doors up to the very external entrance gate, I immediately felt the enigma within him and his internalization of the Wonka role. And then he left the cane sticking into the ground and act as if he's falling, face first. But suddenly, he tumbles and regained his footing all in one motion with the honed finesse and energy of an effortless master acrobat. In that scene alone, I almost completely forgot about Johnny Depp's portrayal, and also from that point on, my ready-made comparison between the two actors immediately came into a halt. Gene Wilder, in the simplest of terms, owned Willy Wonka. He inhabited him and vice versa; shame that the said iconic character wasn't given enough story flesh to bulk him up a bit more in terms of his relative weight to the whole narrative fare. And it's more of a disappointment that the film was titled as "Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory" despite of the fact that it just doesn't feel like he's the center of the film.

Now, with that said, I can still fairly say that I have enjoyed the film as a whole, although I would have much preferred it if the two musical sequences before the factory scenes were removed as they just do not add anything to the film whatsoever. Yes, maybe the sense of melancholy and joy (Mrs. Bucket's song and the dance scene between Charlie and Grandpa Joe) are the specific emotions that were targeted to be conveyed in these scenes, but both could have been achieved with a more linear approach. And both songs aren't just that catchy at all.

But then, there's the production design. The tagline of the film is "Enter a world of pure imagination". If it tends to be more accurate, I think they should have added 'silly' somewhere in the middle of the sentence, but that's not an insult. Not at all. Unfolding the premises of Wonka's factory, the film has unveiled machines, mechanisms and devices that are laughable at best. But thinking about it all, I think the film completely distanced itself from the wondrous imagery of common fantasy and instead extended its hands and fully embraced its surreal, weird, bordering traumatic, but ultimately joyous and imaginatively quirky side. A beverage that makes a person who drinks it float up the air, a gum that simulates a three-course dinner, a flavored wall, and even a nightmarish boat ride. It is torn between the fantastically linear and the bizarre, but I think it chose to lean on the latter more.

And somewhere between the film's intent of appealing to the general audience and to connect with fantasy film admirers is an uncommon purpose to expose the darker, more desolate side of loneliness and eccentricity. Take note of Wonka's song number near the beginning of the factory scenes and his preacher-like blabbering during the boat ride scene. These key moments, beyond the unadulterated sense of fun, awe and hilarity, suggestively show his on and off, in and out flirt with lunacy. But the plot twist of sort in the end is the true depiction of Wonka's character's real intention, narrative-wise: that after all, he is the delivery boy of the film's moral lesson and the enforcer of the rewards to those who successfully align themselves with it.

Willy Wonka. The eccentric and the weird. His peculiarities, superficiality and unorthodox authority. Moved and touched by a gobstopper. Even in its ultimate emotional justification, the film is imbalanced at best. But the way it was executed and served in its colorful banquet of images and characters that includes a bunch of Oompa-Loompas that seem like Munchkin rejects, was quite effective. And also, it slightly pokes fun of media (the way it has covered Willy Wonka's 'Golden Ticket' craze), the virtue of fads and the conscious mass hysteria that roots out from the trivial promises of mass-consumed products. So, aside from being an exuberant adaptation of a beloved Roald Dahl classic, it's also quite loaded with what it has to say.

FINAL RATING

Kakabakaba Ka Ba? (Mike De Leon)

The fumbles of the Yakuza. The desperate awkwardness of Chinese determination. The insidious depiction of Catholic nuns and priests. I think it's a great decision for Mike De Leon, one of the Philippines' greatest filmmakers, to put a film prioritizing such themes in a not-so-serious environment where anyone at anytime (although especially in the climax) can break into production numbers. In spirit, "Kakabakaba Ka Ba?" is, like "The Rocky Horror Picture Show", an unexpectedly bizarre adventure into the illegal and the unknown for two uninitiated couples, or at least, love birds. But in its entirety as a film, it is a sharp satire about how these underworld dwellers seem to have all the fun in the world, forming sinister plans, dancing their way into drug production and superficially praising God's daily bread.

And with a sense of bumbling lack of control, the film has expressed these mindless chases for grotesque pleasures and taboo in a happy, energetic and strangely harmonious light that we question its unusual tone. But I believe De Leon and screenwriters Doy Del Mundo and Racquel Villavicencio knew more. That 'question' makes the film. It evaluates our response to its display of romanticized moral disregard. With quirkiness, music and a slip-in psychedelia on the side.

The film's MacGuffin is unique enough: a cassette tape cum opium container. It was unwittingly put into one of our protagonists' (played by Christopher De Leon) jacket by the Yakuza errand man Omota, one-dimensionally played by APO's Boboy Garovillo (although may be the exact intent). Through that performance, it transforms foreign smuggling into a Wile Coyote-like affair, with occasional busts and foils treated as nothing but episodic humor and successes immediately countered by funny miscalculations. In an early scene, the film even pokes fun to the fatal culture of the said Japanese crime syndicate when failure hits the fan through cutting of fingers, shown in a flat screen television sticking out from a Shoji screen. The film's tongue was really that immersed on the cheek.

The lovebirds mentioned earlier were played by Christopher De Leon, Jay Ilagan, Charo Santos and Sandy Andolong. Their performances were quite enjoyable, but that's where the script shows its contrivance. At certain points, they ride into dialogues not by means of natural flow but through conversational timings that were obviously rehearsed and coordinated. At least they could have applied some of Bunuel's passively comic treatments to satiric characters that were always proven to be very effective. But still, I have to praise Mike De Leon and company for creating such a different film in our local industry that seems to live and die on melodrama.

By the standards of our movies, "Kakabakaba Ka Ba?" is utterly subversive, with radical attacks ranging from gangsterism to the Catholic church's hypocrisy, while it also brought forth a notion that musical can quite fit as a narrative crescendo to such a wide-tackling satire. But maybe it's also an easy way to visually portray what they really wanted to: The crazy, megalomania-inspired higher ones' intent to control people through the, symbolically, 'opiate of the masses' that is mainstream religion, as coined by Karl Marx (furthered by how Pinoy Master (Johnny Delgado) wants to produce mass wafers mixed with opium to be given to church-goers). So, after all, there's some ounces of critical inputs in the film, too.

I must admit, I did not like "Kakabakaba Ka Ba?" that much compared to Mike De Leon's masterpiece "Kisapmata", arguably the best Filipino film ever made, and "Batch '81". But I love the way the film has ended. Dancing nuns. A singing drug kingpin. A samurai duel. With a unique approach to the final wedding scene, the film embraced some sort of a Jodorowskian afterthought.

After a two hour run of exhilarating imagery and peculiar performances, a crew, holding a clapper, suddenly shouts "Cut!" and the camera zooms out from above, exposing the band playing the musical score to only be a few feet away from the actual scene. It fully echoes Alejandro Jodorowsky's "Holy Mountain" and its most memorable character, the Alchemist's immortal line: "Real life awaits us". Well, let's break the illusion then, shall we?

FINAL RATING

The Rocky Horror Picture Show (Jim Sharman)

Dr. Frank-N-Furter and his minions.

"Didn't we pass a castle back down the road a few miles? Maybe they have a telephone I could use." Said Brad Majors, a hero. A very cliched line from hundreds of horror films to fundamentally begin a complication. And from that so begins the crazy night in Frank-N-Furter's gothic castle and the fun of "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" as a whole, filled with hilarity, horror and sexual innuendos that is also an out-of-this world ode to the cheesy greatness of B-movies.

'Frankly' (He. He. He he.) speaking, 'cult' films, like this one, are really very hard to scrutinize based on pros and cons as they aren't merely just films alone. Like "Star Wars", "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" is an unsurpassed phenomenon that blurs the borders between 'cinema' and pop culture. Through the years, it ceased to be just a film but also an embodiment of the numerous taboos of the 70's and at the same time, the era's uncontrolled, raging energy. To look at the film's (based on a stage play) ideas, characters, and set designs, it's hard to imagine all of it being created by sane minds. A distant galaxy called Transylvania and a planet named Transsexual? A cross-dressing scientist? Lots of eccentric grotesques? Coming from a perverted disposal, more like.

But from these seemingly outrageous thematic excesses and far-fetched conceptual liberties arises a balanced treatment of the musically ordered and the characteristically absurd. With Tim Curry's amazing, awe-inspiring depiction of a free-willing transsexual scientist who creates his ultimate hedonistic object that is 'Rocky Horror' (played by Peter Hinwood) and Susan Sarandon and Barry Bostwick's portrayal of a gullible, naive and repressed young couple, the film, directed by Jim Sharman, has achieved to pit two opposites.

We may be abhorred, disgusted and repelled by Frank-N-Furter's unorthodox sexuality and all, but it is perfectly contrasted by the straight-laced couple. We may see weird dance numbers amid surrealistic backdrops but they were viewed through the considerably unknowing eyes of Sarandon and Bostwick's characters. Decadence and innocence. Both contained in a colorful, gothic and occasionally shocking musical bizarre fest. Oh, how it delivered immensely.

Sure, the whole film is pure outlandishness just for the sake of it, but with Charles Gray's (by the way, he has played both an ally and a villain in the James Bond franchise) semi-profound statements, mostly told in intervals, about the emotional capacity of human beings only meagerly connected to the quick peripherals of persuasion (which Frank-N-Furter took advantage of), the film has also tread something other than music and choreography.

Sure, these can be nothing but cynic cliches commonly heard from many films dealing with pessimistic outlooks about human existence, but it sure fired away to fully complement the immoral undercurrents of the film. We may succumb to LSS, singing "Whatever Happened to Saturday Night?" and "Sweet Transvestite" at the back of our minds, but the film, as a cinematic entirety, exposes the emotional and sexual repression prevalent on many people dealing with the same situational predicament as in the film.

Tragic, fun, mischievous, even weirdly sexy, "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" is, after all these years, still a refreshing cinematic experience partly because of it's aghast-inspiring perspective about the futility of human control caught in the middle of an enticing prospect for dissipation. But also, quite simply, because the film is just so much fun to behold.

FINAL RATING

Across the Universe (Julie Taymor)

'A spot on a random haze.'

With all its moody visuals and a combination of acid psychedelia and some satiric doses regarding the Vietnam War (especially the "I Want You (She's So Heavy)" sequence), "Across the Universe" is also filled with great sequences that at times are even better than it's sum. It's also a refreshing reverberation of the musical genre, a film that did not compose any songs to substitute as verbal lines for its characters, but narrates a romantic tale set during late 60's America through bona fide Beatles classics that have individual stories, sensibilities and messages of their own that the film has successfully merged to create an emotionally coherent whole that brilliantly explores the counter cultural scene amidst the paranoia and protests, set during the waning days of the great American pretense towards conservatism.

Yes, I know 'The Beatles'. I know their names. I'm aware that John Lennon was killed by Mark David Chapman. But all of those are nothing but pure information, so having the idea that not all people know (or even 'like') the Beatles and their music that much (except the likes of "Hey Jude"), "Across the Universe" has given their songs vibrant visual accompaniments to appeal to both the immediate aesthetics and the deeper emotions about the idea of a transcendental love; and there's even politics on the side.

For some, watching the film without enough knowledge of the said songs, may be an alienating experience. But with the creators' (especially director Julie Taymor who has weaved it all together) awareness about the probability of a thematic and contextual misunderstanding that may put down the film's connection with its potential audience, the film ended up having a hint of familiarity within us all. No, not just as a piece of musical to make us celebrate the Beatles' established legend (though that can be a bonus), but as a film ranging from sweet to nightmarish conceived to touch, affect, emotionally stimulate, and even violate us viewers with its overall display and content.

The performances, although generally good, isn't what's important in the film. Yes, it's the characters' story to share, but they are just a spot on a random haze. A slight blur on a sharp crowd. Yes, it's their feelings, but it's all heading and converging towards a common sentiment. A steady bond in the middle of an era of uncertainty and fear that may just as well go by overlooked and neglected. But with the help of songs looking for love, change, and connection, "Across the Universe" has given these 'nobodies' an uncommon voice, with some colorful alterations to back it up and great music to make sure it will certainly be heard.

I went to watch it knowing that the story will be progressively put into motion by Beatles songs; as the film ends, its prolonged grasp on my emotions tightens its hold like a tender hug. Yes, the narrative was surely and convincingly moved by the songs, but so was I.

FINAL RATING

Singin' in the Rain (Stanley Donen and Gene Kelly)

Gene Kelly is singin' in the rain.

Film Review Archive (date seen: September 14, 2010)

"Singin' in the Rain" might be the closest a film can get to a perfect musical. Some films of the kind, although impressive in its showcase of its extravagant production values, lacks the pure magic of telling a memorable story, drowning the project instead with countless song numbers to conceal the deficiency of the material itself, even so that some of them won Best Picture awards. Enter "Singin' in the Rain", a film that may look just like the others initially: style but no substance. But this film dared to remove the 'no', and succeeded.

The plot of the film may easily drift into some melodramatic musical numbers pertaining about the passing of old times and the silent era silenced forever by the emergence of the title card-less, full-fledged "talkies"; themes that can be effortlessly turned into a sad swan song of sorts for the said era. But with its mood and atmosphere departing from the typical treatment of the material, the film, directed by dance virtuoso Gene Kelly, along with Stanley Donen, flourished with almost uncontainable joy and genuine laughter, usually rooted out from the mishaps of transforming a silent film studio into a try-hard talkie producer. Add up Jean Hagen's unforgettable performance as Lina Lamont, a satiric attack for larger than life stars with smaller than penny brains, then you have a classic.

A concept that could have easily resulted into a tearful elegy about the transition of eras and the changing times always prevalent on the movie industry, but instead turned into a colorful celebration of film and music and of the successful passing of torch of two different cinematic deviations. Both proven by time as essential and significant to its (cinema) meteoric emergence as the prime medium commonly associated with "entertainment".

FINAL RATING